


Part-Time Lover (Full-Time Friend)

by factorielle



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte
Genre: Falling In Love, Jealousy, M/M, Male Friendship, Misunderstanding, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-03
Updated: 2011-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/factorielle/pseuds/factorielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's kind of funny how things are still awkward with Shinooka with whom nothing happened, but he and Izumi have been hanging out together as much as ever despite what <i>did</i> happen on the very same day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part-Time Lover (Full-Time Friend)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ms_worplesdon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_worplesdon/gifts).



> A great many thanks to [herongale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/herongale/pseuds/herongale) and [yukitsu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Yukitsu/pseuds/Yukitsu), who provided valuable insight on the first part despite me shoving it at them with almost no time to spare. You guys are awesome and you should feel awesome. <3

After the team has been practicing on Nishiura's field throughout the break, coming back to class for a new school year is hardly a dramatic change.

The classroom lists haven't evolved much, as far as Mizutani can tell. Abe and Hanai are still with him. So is Shinooka. He's not too sure how he feels about that.

It's been four months since That Day, and there are things he remembers perfectly: which lock he closed first when he left the house, the exact number of minutes he spent waiting for the train that would take him to what he thought was a date, the precise tilt of Shinooka's fork in her waffle when she told him she would never see him that way. Four months, and it still stings to see her beam at Hanai, Abe and half of their classmates, then look away and mumble an unconvincing greeting as soon as her eyes meet his.

She's already sitting when he comes in the room, which leaves Mizutani with the responsibility of picking his own desk, not too close to her so he doesn't look like a creepy stalker, but not too far so he doesn't look like he's avoiding her.

The decision takes him so long that he ends stuck up in the first row, right in front of Abe whom he can feel glaring at him for no other reason than that glaring is what Abe _does_.

It sets the mood for the entire morning. Mizutani spends it gazing at the drizzle outside, unable to focus on the teachers rehashing the most important points of last year's syllabus. When lunch break finally starts, Shinooka spends five minutes in conversation with Hanai and Abe before running out of the classroom with great purpose. Neither of his teammates seem to feel the urgent need to tell him what that was about, and he doesn't ask.

The rain continues to gray out the sky throughout their afternoon classes, only stopping half an hour before practice. Even so, the sun still hasn't reappeared by the time the class bows down to the maths teacher.

Shinooka disappears instantly, Abe and Hanai flock together: without so much as a warning, Mizutani is left to amble to the field by himself. He gets to the bottom of the stairs before bumping into Izumi, who, as luck would have it, is also unaccompanied.

It's kind of funny, come to think of it: how things are still awkward with Shinooka with whom nothing happened, but he and Izumi have been hanging out together as much as ever, to go to the arcade or the CD rental store or even study, despite what _did_ happen on the very same day.

Mizutani's still not sure why he thought it would be a good idea to suggest that they try kissing together, but he's saved from having to worry about it because Izumi's never asked. Somehow, by some sort of miracle he's too grateful for to look at too closely, the fact that they once spent an evening making out on a futon laid out on the floor of Izumi's bedroom doesn't hang between them.

Izumi didn't even tease him about showing up at his house teary-eyed and desperate after getting bluntly rejected. That part is kind of a shame, because Mizutani spent a good few hours coming up with witty retorts. Now it just feels like wasted time.

"Did you get abandoned too?"

Izumi stretches his arms to the sky. "Hamada is still trying to get the ouendan approved as a club, and Tajima grabbed Mihashi and ran the moment class was out. Wants to have first look at the new kids."

Sounds like Tajima all over. "Doesn't recruitment last all week, though?"

Izumi falls in step with him easily. "Maybe he just wanted an excuse to run out of class. That, or he's being superstitious. We all joined on the first day, after all."

True enough. Nobody came after that first afternoon, and Mizutani has to admit that if anyone had, they might not have fit in quite as well.

Having new people on the team isn't something he wants to think about all that much. It can't be helped, and ten players is barely enough to run the team properly, but they have a good working system now and it's a little sad that they have to change it.

"I wonder how many kids will come in," he muses aloud.

"Small team, got to best sixteen in the summer tournament, good press in fall even though we didn't manage to get invited to Koushien... Could be a lot. We'll see soon enough anyway."

Soon enough turns out to be a minute later, when they turn the last corner and get deafened by a loud call of 'Izumi-senpai'. Someone skids to a halt in front of them, a shrimp of a boy in an oversized sweater looking up at Izumi with eyes full of adoration. "Senpai, it's me! Asai!"

Seriously, the kid is _sparkling_. Mizutani blinks and glances back at his friend. "I remember your name," Izumi says, but his offended tone sounds a little forced. "But we'll catch up later, or we're going to be late for practice."

"Is the coach really--"

"Yes," Izumi says. "And free advice: if she picks up an orange, look away. Just... look away."

"Er, okay." The kid frowns a little, obviously confused. He makes brief eye contact with Mizutani, then dismisses him completely and tilts his head to the side. "I should go back to the field, I left..."

"Sure," Izumi says. "See you there."

"Wow," Mizutani says, grinning despite himself. "You never said you had a fan following."

Izumi throws him a Look. "Don't even joke about that."

It's kind of an opening into something Mizutani's wondered about a couple of times. "Is that why you came here? Because Hamada was--"

Izumi shakes his head so fast it's a wonder he doesn't give himself whiplash. "Coincidence. I thought he'd gone to Kyushu with his family. I almost had a heart attack when I saw he was in my class. Asai, though... I would have thought he'd go to Omiya Kita. He kind of screwed himself over coming here, poor kid."

"What? We're a good club to be in." It's kind of insulting that Izumi would even suggest otherwise. Also, Omiya Kita? Mizutani's not one of the guys who know every high school team ever, but he does know the basics. He's never heard of that school in connection to baseball before: it's not even a blip on the radar.

Then again, Nishiura wasn't either, a year ago.

"Not for him, we're not. Asai is a catcher."

Mizutani grimaces in sympathy. "Maybe there'll be a new pitcher for him to play with?"

"Oooh, a new pitcher," Izumi drops dryly. "Now _there's_ something we all want to see."

Mizutani stops dead in his tracks, horrified. "I don't want to see that," he says, from the bottom of his heart.

"You and me both," Izumi mutters, not quite under his breath.

That's... not reassuring at all. "Are you worried?" Because, well, he's pretty used to Izumi not worrying about _anything_ , but the guy does have a soft spot for Mihashi so it's not entirely impossible.

"Not yet," Izumi says. "Come on, everyone's there already."

'Everyone' is a lot, all things considered. There's the ten of them of course, and Momokai and Shigapo and even Ai-chan; at the side of the field Shinooka is engaged in conversation with a couple of first-year girls.

Then there are the new recruits, about twenty-five of them, and even after searching all their faces Mizutani honestly can't remember which of these kids he almost engaged in conversation with three minutes ago. He should probably have paid more attention to the pattern on the sweater.

Then again, he finds out soon enough, when Hanai makes the team fall into three lines, second-years at the front. Mizutani ends up with Suyama to his right, Izumi to his left, and someone behind him whispering enthusiastically about 'Izumi-senpai'. He tries to pay more attention to what Momokan's saying, and he's pretty sure the kid standing next to Izumi's one-man fan club is making an effort too, but the whisper is just the wrong blend of invasive and too low to understand.

"We'll hold a training camp in Chiba during Golden Week," Momokan is saying when Mizutani manages to make abstraction of the buzz. "In the meantime, I want all of you to get back in shape, and get to know one another. It'll be light practice today, so split into groups of two or three to play catch." Mizutani is pretty sure he hears the kid (Asai, is it?) make a happy high-pitched sound behind him as Hanai dismisses the meeting.

Mizutani's just about to rescue Izumi from having to deal with the kid when Momokan calls one last thing, out of the blue: "Remember you're supposed to get to know one another. Nobody partners with anyone they've ever been on a team with!"

It's almost amusing how quickly Asai's face falls.

Izumi shrugs, puts a hand on Asai's shoulder and one on Mizutani's. "Well, I'm going to go and find myself a first-year I've never seen in my life to throw a ball at. Asai, Mizutani. Mizutani, Asai. You boys try to get along."

"Right," Mizutani says to his friend's back, and turns to the kid. "So, what made you come to Nishiura?" he asks as they go to the pile of equipment to pick up a ball.

Asai gives him a look that's so familiar that Mizutani can't help but foresee Nishiura's future in two years: a bunch of mini-Izumis making scornful faces at people at every occasion. The kid keeps the expression up as Mizutani bursts out laughing, which only makes him go into hysterics.

"Sorry, sorry," he manages eventually, trying to wave it off. "So, why did you say you came here?"

"This team's had a good run last year," Asai answers, looking mutinous. "I mean, I thought of going to Omiya Kita, but my grades..." He grimaces in explanation as Mizutani wonders why that school suddenly seems to be such a big deal. "Here is fine, though. It's a good team, right?"

"Yeah," Mizutani says, stepping away with a ball in his hand. "It really is."

* * *

Three weeks later, the bus taking them to Chiba is a lot less crowded than expected: neither of the girls who were talking to Shinooka have tried for manager, and the crop of new kids has gone down considerably.

Mizutani takes a bit of an interest in Asai, mostly with the not-so-veiled hope that he has some embarrassing or at least funny stories to tell about Izumi I'm-used-to-it Kousuke. Sadly, the brat isn't all that interested in _him_ , and whenever he slips into talking about the past he seems to assume Mizutani knows all about it already. And then, at some point between making breakfast and jogging on the beach, he finds a new upperclassman to obsess over.

"I don't like this," Izumi mutters on the third day of the Golden Week training camp, after Asai's begged Mihashi to come out and pitch during the one hour of free time they get before dinner.

"Awww, you're jealous. How cute," Mizutani teases.

Izumi doesn't even grace him with an answer before dodging out of the room right after Abe, which makes Mizutani pout despite himself. A minute later, he decides he kind of wants to see the showdown.

They've got the use of a local field this year as well, one that's not quite big enough for official games but has a proper diamond and stands all the same, and happens to be only a couple of minutes away from the derelict house they're staying in for the week. When Mizutani gets there, Asai is already signing to Mihashi; off to the side, Abe and Izumi appear to be having a pretty heated discussion, which lasts until Abe stalks off right as Mizutani is getting within hearing distance.

"What's got _his_ panties in a bunch?"

"Mihashi. Pitching. To someone else. I convinced him to let me monitor it."

"Why would you do that?" it sounds like the most thankless chore ever.

Izumi frowns as Mihashi's pitch hits the catcher's mitt with a sharp sound. "Asai's been coming to our classroom three times a week to replay the best 'what if' hits of middle school with Hamada. It's like he's completely forgotten."

"Forgotten what? Did something happen?"

"They trained together for five minutes the year we were all in the same club." His expression hardens. "Next thing I know, Hamada's got his arm in a sling and has to quit the team in the middle of the summer tournament."

Mizutani blinks at the venom in Izumi's voice. "You think it was Asai's..."

"It was Hamada's fault. He didn't pace himself. But Asai should be more careful, and you just know Mihashi's never going to stop pitching as long as he has someone to catch for him. What?"

Mizutani has to wave a hand in the air for ten seconds before he can stop laughing long enough to answer. "You're siding with Abe," he gasps, and Izumi looks at him like he doesn't know why that's hilarious.

"I don't always disagree with Abe, you know," he says eventually.

"When it comes to Mihashi?" Mizutani asks, still laughing. Izumi opens his mouth, and...

"Mizutani-kun, can I talk to you for a moment?"

He turns, surprised, to see Momokan standing right behind then (how long has she been here?). She looks serious, somehow, in a way he can't quite place.

"Sure," he says, and leaves Izumi to his surveillance of the current battery with porn scenarios running through his mind at breakneck speeds. Breasty female coach seduces barely legal player during camp, makes him discover adult pleasures as the manager who rejected him watches from--

"Mizutani-kun?"

"Yes! Sorry. I... sorry. I'm listening." Like that would ever happen. They're still right next to the field anyway, still in view of three of Mizutani's teammates, and he doesn't have much of a thing for being watched.

"Tomorrow I'll announce the lineup for the next practice game," she says.

Mizutani blinks. Did he get designated as an extra vice-captain while he wasn't paying attention?

"Nishihiro-kun will be playing left field," she adds, looking at him with an intensity that's a little uncomfortable. He almost, almost asks where Tajima will be playing, now that Abe is back as catcher and he's taking third base.

Then reality catches up.

"Oh," he says.

She nods. "For the spring tournament, as well."

Mizutani nods dumbly, unable to find a single thing to answer. At least nothing that's polite, or even remotely appropriate, nothing he can say without screaming it.

She searches his face for a moment. "You know, the value of the supporting members of a team can be largely unappreciated. Coaching third base is a challenging role, and it can come down to you to make the decision that will make or break the game. It's not negligible at all."

"Yeah, sure," Mizutani hears himself mumble, and finally she desists and leaves him alone.

He watches from afar as Izumi walks onto the diamond, negotiates with Asai for ten seconds, then walks away again as the kid gets three more pitches, fastball curveball slider, Mizutani can tell even from here, now. He's been training hard and long enough to identify Mihashi's pitches from a distance but it's still not enough, is it? All this work, only to get ejected from the team. Momokan probably hasn't made a decision about summer yet, but if he doesn't get the chance to shine in spring, how can he possibly compete? Nishihiro's been on a roll lately, he's been wanting to play again, so what space is left now?

"... thinking about something weird again," someone is saying. "You two go ahead. Try to be nice to Abe." Then there's a hand being waved in front of his face, and Mizutani snaps back to the present.

"Are you okay?" Izumi asks. "You were standing there for a long time."

Mizutani is a little tempted to tell him, maybe. Then again, the most Izumi is likely to do is tell him to suck it up and right now he's not sure he could take that.

"It's nothing," he assures with his brightest grin.

"Okay..." Izumi is clearly not convinced, but he doesn't push it, just heads back to the house without waiting for Mizutani.

* * *

He doesn't tell anyone about the lineup change. Not Izumi, not Sakaeguchi, not Nishihiro himself. Keeps that bit of information to himself, because as long as nobody else knows it can still be an awful joke, or a bad dream, anything that makes it not true.

He tries to console himself the next day by thinking that at least most of the first years are still worse players than he is, but it doesn't work all that well. Anyway, what does it matter who's better, if he's not on the team to begin with?

The end of practice comes despite his best efforts, and the announcement. Mizutani watches the others as they listen, and really it sounds boring, even after she's told them that the lineup is likely to apply to the first official game in spring. Nothing new in the list, Izumi as lead-off and Tajima for clean-up like always, just like always until she gets to the bottom of the lineup and Mizutani's stomach clenches on Oki's name; right before she calls it -- _left field, Nishihiro-kun_. He hears the ripple of it, the murmur behind him and then it's Mihashi and done, dismissed, free time until dinner in an hour.

The team is grouping around Nishihiro, the ones who realize how important this is to him: they're congratulating him, clapping hands on his shoulders (not easy, with Tajima hanging off his back-- _I'll be counting on you, left field_.)

Mizutani slips away unnoticed.

He washes first in the deserted showers, gets it done as fast as he can. He hasn't dried his hair when he leaves the locker room, but there are noises coming from the door to the field and he doesn't want to talk to anyone right now.

So his hair is dripping and that's kind of uncomfortable because it makes his earphones squishy, but it doesn't stop him from pushing the volume as far up as it will go as he doubles back to the now empty field. He climbs the stands all the way to the top, somewhere above third base, and sits there with his legs and arms dangling from the railing, just staring blankly at the field.

From this position it would be impossible not to notice the visitor climbing his way up to him. He tries anyway, but Izumi doesn't take the hint. Reluctantly, Mizutani pushes a single earphone back, but doesn't otherwise acknowledge his new companion.

"You kind of ran out," Izumi says, as interested as if he was commenting on the weather.

"Needed some air," Mizutani mumbles to the world, feeling stupid for it because they were outside and it's not as though anybody was paying attention to him anyway.

"It's only one game."

Two, actually, and that's not even the worse of it. Mizutani forces himself to keep looking at the field. "Actually, coach told me it'd be the same for all of spring." He makes himself smile through the sentence, but saying it himself feels just as bad as being told, and his voice sounds a little strained.

Izumi stays quiet for a moment. "Do you want it back?" he asks eventually.

It's such an obvious question that Mizutani has to wonder where the catch is. "Nishihiro won fair and square. He deserves it." And he does, really he does, Mizutani knows that but it still stinks.

Izumi clears his throat. "She didn't tell _us_ he was playing through the spring tournament. All she talked about was tomorrow's game, and the first official one. Everything else is wide open. The way I see it, you've got a chance to convince her to change her mind. Maybe Nishihiro deserved it. But you can still deserve it more."

But he's tried, hasn't he? The calluses and the running and the exhaustion, coming home with barely enough energy to fall on the sofa -- he's tried his best and all it amounted to was getting cut off. "How?" he whispers, almost hoping that Izumi doesn't hear him.

"Hard work." He snorts as Mizutani deflates. "More hard work, that is. I can help if you want. And if you're not going to flake out," he adds, a reminder of Mizutani's five-minute switch-hitting career.

"Why would you do that for me?" It'd be a bit weird, wouldn't it, taking sides like that? It's nice that Izumi is ready to make an effort to get Mizutani reinstated, but what about Nishihiro?

"I'm doing it for myself anyway, so it's not that much of a stretch. Also when you're depressed you get that..." he frowns, gestures something Mizutani doesn't understand.

"Butterfly?" he tries. Izumi throws him a Look, because Izumi is a bad person who has no pity for the wounded. "Playlist?" His sister did tell him once that it was annoying and cheesy, but she doesn't have any taste in music so he didn't pay all that much attention. "Fighting bears?"

" _Face_ ," Izumi says at length. "Like somebody set your puppy on fire. Even Abe thinks it's depressing."

"Oh, good," Mizutani grumbles. "You're siding with Abe now."

"And to think, just yesterday that was the funniest thing in the world."

Okay, now, that is just kicking him when he's down. Mizutani attempts to express this with his face, which only makes Izumi roll his eyes at him. The guy's just got no sympathy.

"Why are you giving yourself extra training anyway? Isn't that too much?"

"When I was in middle school, there were only two second-years who got to play in the summer tournament." He pauses, eyes lost in the distance. "The senpais that got kicked off to leave us the space were not happy, so our captain had to call them out about slacking off in front of the whole team. I don't want that happening to me, it was bad enough watching it."

"But you never slack off," Mizutani points out. He'd consider himself to be training seriously now, but Izumi, much like Tajima and Mihashi, is on an entirely different level.

Maybe it's a class thing. Maybe they get special 'scary intensity' training in there.

"There's always room for improvement. I'm not letting anyone take my spot on the team." It's not even bravado, not how Tajima or Hanai might have said it and certainly not Mihashi's desperate resolution, but there's steel in Izumi's voice and Mizutani is pretty sure that this isn't something he'd say in front of just anyone.

It's a little bit encouraging, that determination. Makes Mizutani believe that he's capable of things he hadn't even dared to consider. But even so, he doesn't have the energy. "I don't think it's such a good idea," he mumbles.

"Okay," Izumi says. He gets up. "If you change your mind, I'll be at the batting center at eight on Tuesday, since we don't have practice in the morning."

He leaves without waiting for an answer.

* * *

Watching the game from the dugout is horrible. It's not a bad one by any account, it's just that Mizutani isn't playing in it. And whatever Momokan said, the important moments don't come down to him, not even when he's yelling at Tajima to keep going after Hanai hits a triple, because Tajima always makes the right decision anyway. Mizutani spends the whole game cheering with Shigapo because Shinooka had a moment of instant bonding with her equivalent on the opposing team and is now up in the announcer box, swapping manager stories in between calling the score.

Half the time he can't even tell which one of them is calling Nishihiro's name. Probably Shinooka, he thinks glumly. Probably she's congratulating herself on the decision to not get involved with a loser who couldn't even keep his loser spot on a ten-man team. Hey, maybe she'll end up going out with Nishihiro, too. Wouldn't that be fun.

By the time the game ends, Mizutani feels crappy, completely messed up, and kind of guilty for some of the thoughts he's been having.

He bows with the others, maybe a little bit lower than them, and goes through the motions until they're on the bus, headed straight home. He sits by himself in one of the middle rows, not wanting to look like he's sulking. Takes a window seat, too, leaving the other one wide open, but none of his teammates come to join him. In the happy chaos of post-victory celebration, it's like nobody notices him. Why should they, when he didn't participate?

Mizutani cranks up the volume on his mp3 player and spends the entire trip staring out the window.

The next morning he's at the batting center at a quarter to eight; determined, resolute, and only superficially regretting the couple of hours he could have spent in bed instead.

"Good morning," Izumi calls when he arrives, at two minutes to eight. "You're on board, then?"

Mizutani takes a deep breath. "I want it back," he admits, for the first time out loud.

"Let's make it happen, then." At least he's not too harsh, setting the machine to a slider at 130 km/h, which is a pitch Mizutani's been hitting consistently since last year.

Then he starts the music.

That's not bad in itself: Mizutani has a soundtrack to his life; so it fits. Plus, he kind of likes the selection, even if it wouldn't have been his.

It's just... the beat. It's deep, regular, invasive, and completely...

It's completely out of synch with the pitching machine. It takes Mizutani ten strikes to realize he's swinging in time with the beat, not the ball.

In the next booth over, Izumi is focusing on the machine, but over the next five pitches Mizutani can tell he's having trouble too, albeit not nearly as much as him.

"You're not doing too good," Izumi points out once both their machines have stopped their run, patting the back of his neck with a towel.

"The music is distracting," Mizutani complains, even though he knows, knows that Izumi is only going to sneer at him for being a wimp.

"It is. Just like the public, the ouendan, the pretty girls screaming your name, your own teammates giving you advice you already know..."

"Like folding my arms?"

Izumi snorts. "Like folding your arms. Which you were told to do how many times before we played Bijou?"

Mizutani has to concede this point, no matter how he wishes he could avoid doing so. "You're good at it, though," he tries to sidestep.

"Most of the time," Izumi says. "I still get distracted sometimes, and when that happens you can say goodbye to the at-bat. So I train."

It seems so simple when he says it: _I'm not good enough so I make myself better_.

Maybe he just doesn't have much of a life beside baseball. That would explain why it's easy for him to spend so much time and energy on training.

"Break is over. I'm increasing the speed on your machine."

He restarts the music a second later. Mizutani forces himself to focus on the machine, on the visual of the balls sinking in their tubes, that special rhythm that's a little bit like a pitcher's windup motion, the beat of it easy once he's figured it out. He swings and swings and swings, hits the ball three times out of ten, then four, then five--

He's at three times out of five (sometimes) when the machine splutters, out of balls.

He blinks.

When he turns around, Izumi is leaning against a wall, watching him from behind.

"The music stopped," Mizutani tells him.

"About five minutes ago, yes. You've done good. Come now, we're going to be late for practice."

Oh, true. There's practice now, isn't there.

"My arms are going to fall off," Mizutani complains. The next second something is hurtling at his face. He moves on instinct, catches the ball just before it breaks his nose.

"Your arms are fine," Izumi tells him.

"What the-- hey, that was really dangerous!" Mizutani protests, irked, as Izumi slings his sports bag onto his shoulder.

"Made my point, though."

"Which was what?"

"That you have more energy than that," he says, nodding at the batting cages around them. "Better reflexes than I thought, too."

"You threw that thinking it would hit me?" Mizutani asks, appalled.

"I didn't know," Izumi says, failing to hold back a smirk. "So I just tried it."

"Can I 'just try' shoving a ball up your nose?" Mizutani grumbles, following him outside the batting center.

"I don't know, how does that help with baseball training exactly?"

"You-- that's not-- Izumi!"

All he gets in return is Izumi turning around to look at him, grinning, eyes crinkled with mirth.

Mizutani keeps protesting for the hell of it until they get to school and Izumi ditches him to go talk to Tajima until practice starts.

For being a lot shorter than it was back in summer, it's still pretty exhausting, although that might be because of all the extra batting. It doesn't last very late, either: to all the second years' surprise, Momokan dismisses practice at six.

"Is it just me, or are our practices a lot shorter lately?" Sakaeguchi asks aloud a few minutes, pulling a clean shirt over his head.

"How do you not--" Hanai starts, then takes a deep breath. "Some members of the PTA suggested it would be better to give us only light practice on Sundays and holidays," he says, obviously quoting and unhappy about it.

Mizutani's fine with that, though. "I'm going to go home," he tells the world. "I'll go home and I'll take the longest bath--"

"Is that what you think, now?" Izumi asks from the other end of the bench, doing up his pants as he talks.

Mizutani makes his most horrified face at him. "Yes?" he says, hopelessly.

Izumi raises an eyebrow.

Mizutani deflates, which makes Sakaeguchi glance curiously between the two of them.

He ends up having to wait for five minutes at Tajima's door, until Izumi comes out with a plastic bag that rustles all the way back to his place.

As soon as they're done saying hi to the empty house, Izumi plops down in front of the TV in the living room, fishes a tape out of Tajima's mystery bag, and sprawls on the floor as soon as he's put it in the player.

"How is this training?" Mizutani asks, a split second before a Nishiura banner appears onscreen.

"Because we're going to dissect every move you made on that tape," Izumi says, with just a hint of a smirk. "Me too, of course."

Oh. That's okay, then, if he gets to poke fun at Izumi too -- even more so since this seems to be the game they lost against Bijou, and without fake modesty, Mizutani thinks he played a rather tighter game than Izumi that day.

He sits on the couch, seeing nothing of his friend but a black mop of hair at he edge of his vision, and watches.

There's not much to be said about the top of the first, except that it's still a little painful to watch the effortless homerun. But Izumi pauses the tape almost as soon as he comes at bat.

"There. I didn't see how close they were."

"It's kind of subtle, though?" Mizutani remembers Momokan telling them about this, how surprised he was that they'd been studied even though that's exactly what they'd done to Tousei earlier.

He doesn't remember Izumi being angry. Determined to win, definitely, and it was contagious. But the way he's talking now, he sounds like he still hasn't forgiven himself for not noticing what Bijou was doing in the first half-second of play.

That was nine months ago. He should really let it go. Staying angry for so long has to be bad for his health.

"I should still have seen it," Izumi insists. "Tajima did."

"Tajima is _special_ ," Mizutani points out, feeling a bit weird that he has to because doesn't Izumi know already, after spending so much time around the guy?

"He doesn't have magic powers," Izumi insists. "If I accept that there's something he can do and I can't just because he has talent, that's just as good as giving up, isn't it?"

Mizutani blinks. "I never saw it like that," he admits.

Izumi lets out a long breath. "So. I should have noticed their positions--" he says, pointing back at the screen.

It keeps going like this, and as Izumi's family members slowly trickle in, Mizutani realizes that he was wrong to be even remotely worried about his own performance: sure, Izumi does point out his mistakes, wrong stances and bad calls, but he's a thousand times harsher on himself. And his family is obviously used to him doing that, because none of them try to push the conversation any further than "I'm back".

They're at the top of the sixth when Izumi's mom, who's been wandering around the house for half an hour, clears her throat loudly.

Izumi hits pause with an exasperated sigh before turning to her, but she's not looking at him.

"Mizutani-kun, would you like to stay for dinner?" she asks, all smiles and pleasantness, and it doesn't occur to him to not say yes.

"Okay then," Izumi says, and turn his attention back to the TV.

She coughs. "Kousuke, it's almost time for the news," is all she says, but he lets out another long suffering sigh, changes the channel and plucks out the tape before grabbing his things and heading for his bedroom. Mizutani throws his mother an embarrassed smile, and follows him there.

"That's it for today, I guess," Izumi says, sitting against the bed the same way he was doing with the sofa earlier.

Mizutani laughs, and sits at his side. "It was plenty already," he says, and pokes his toe in the handle of the plastic bag. "Do you have all our games in--"

Something falls out of the bag, something that's most definitely not a baseball tape, because baseball games don't have naked women in them. Naked and bending forward a little, one hand resting on the inside of her thigh and okay, even just the cover is making him blush, these guys swap things like this?

Why isn't he in on it?

"The plot is actually kind of good," Izumi says, deadpan, but he still sounds a little bit embarrassed. Mizutani nods solemnly, and cracks the book open.

"Hey," Izumi protests, "I haven't even read that. And if you start in the middle you won't understand any--" Mizutani sees the lunge coming, keeps the book out of his reach, which only works until Izumi gets up on his knees, snatches it from his hands and climbs up to the bed.

Undeterred, Mizutani comes after him, lets himself fall on the mattress, his side pressing against Izumi's on the narrow bed.

"Come on, let me look," he wheedles. Izumi makes an exasperated noise but moves the book a tiny bit closer to Mizutani so they can both read.

There _is_ a fair amount of plot, that Mizutani is finding it difficult to understand because there seem to be five different factions, each character having an allegiance to at least two of them and going by three different names. As advertised by the cover, though, they also have a lot of sex. Specifically, the young woman Mizutani assumes is the heroine does it with women and men alike, often to get information or favors but on occasion just for the hell of it.

The art is... explicit. Uncensored. Make Mizutani feel warm all over, a little self-conscious and fidgety, although he tries to control that, to not draw attention to himself.

It shouldn't hit him by surprise, that they're laying in the same room where they made out months ago, sides pressed together and reading porn. For some reason, the realization leaves him staring blankly at the page as he tries to push down the sudden fluttering in his stomach. And then there's the other thing, but that's normal, right? With the things going on in front of his eyes, it's perfectly natural to have a reaction; it would even be weird if he didn't.

Izumi's elbow nudges him. "Is there a word you don't understand or something?"

"Sorry," he says automatically, and looks at the page.

Which has no text on it except moans and squelchy sound effects. "Hey!"

Izumi snorts. "Next page, then?"

"Yeah, yeah." But from that point on he can't help but be aware of the warmth seeping through their sweaters, the slight pressure of Izumi's arm against him, and the way his own breathing isn't entirely normal, even when the sex scene ends to give way to more confusing plot. By the time Izumi closes the book, Mizutani is pretty sure that he's going to have to borrow it anyway, if he wants to have the slightest idea what happened.

"Dinner's in half an hour," Izumi says, stretching against him. Mizutani swallows. It sounds obscenely loud. "Do you want to read something else, or..." he leaves it hanging, which makes Mizutani look at him which makes Izumi look at _him_ which makes them both look away but Mizutani is pretty sure they're on the same page here.

"Or," he whispers, and wriggles his body a little closer to Izumi.

They find themselves looking at each other again; Mizutani really wishes they were kissing instead.

Izumi's already halfway turned against him when he starts to speak "it's not-- I'm not-- it's just--" he tries, at a loss for words.

"Just feels good," Mizutani agrees, glad that they understand each other -- though not so much that he forgets about the kissing. It still feels good, half a year later. Better, even, now that he's not so overwhelmed with how much the world sucks, and Izumi is warm against him, under him, right here and kissing back, eagerly -- it's been a while for him as well, Mizutani thinks, they're both in the same situation here so there's nothing embarrassing about wanting to get off at this point, and they already know that it works, too, with the kissing and the grinding.

Although Mizutani isn't sure that's different enough from rubbing himself against his own bed. If there was more, maybe, if--

He steels his resolve and moves his hand between them, rubbing against both their hard-ons. Izumi hisses against his lips, which is a little satisfying.

"You have to," Mizutani starts, in the spirit of equity, and Izumi says "yeah, yeah," feverishly, and after a few moments of fumbling they've got their pants opened and their underwear tucked down and their hands wrapped around each other's cocks and they're not kissing so much anymore because of concentration issues, but it feels amazing anyway.  


* * *

"Mizutani, where have you been? We've been waiting for you all this time!"

It's sweet of Tajima to say that, but possibly not the truest statement ever, considering Mihashi is listening open-mouthed to something Hamada is telling him, closely monitored by Izumi. That usually means there's a dubious middle school tale being told, one that Mizutani might have been interested in hearing, especially when Izumi is poised to vehemently deny all of it.

Still, his own classmates are never that happy to see him. So that's nice, even if there's something slightly weird about it.

"What are you having for lunch?"

Yeah, that's the weird thing. Lunch break just started five minutes ago, and Tajima isn't eating.

Mizutani moves his lunchbox a little further back.

"Hm," he says, glancing at his teammates' table, hoping for a rescue.

"Come on, don't be stingy," Tajima insists, trying to look around him at the box and practically drooling already.

Which is about when Izumi finally gets up. "You'll find out if you come to the library with us. It's math today," he tells Tajima with a bright grin, which makes him recoil as effectively as Momokan's darkest scowl would have. "Mihashi, don't believe a word Hamada says," Izumi calls as he pulls Mizutani to the door.

"Uhm, but..."

"Not one word!" then they're out, the door far enough behind them that Mizutani can't feel the predatory look aimed at his food.

"You know we can't eat in the library, right?"

"You want to stick around until Tajima remembers that? He finished his lunch before class even started."

Scary perspective. "No, let's go." Which doesn't answer the where question. Mizutani is starving too, and there's no way he's going to eat his lunch in the library, even hiding at the back. The librarian is scary. But come to think of it... "Hey, you don't have a lunch either," he points out, suddenly feeling trapped.

"Ate during the break," Izumi answers, taking a sharp turn.

Mizutani hugs his precious burden to his chest. "You tricked me!"

"It was easy, too."

"You guys are menaces."

Izumi snickers. "Right, packed lunch owners the world over are terrified of us."

Which would be funny except that as far as Mizutani is concerned it's not even a joke, so when Izumi starts walking again, Mizutani remains defiantly planted in place until his friend stops again.

"Are you going to eat lunch here or what?"

That's an option. That's definitely an option. There's no mercy in this world after all, he needs to face that.

"Because if you prefer a table, the cafeteria is right down the stairs. In case you've forgotten." He makes coins jingle in his pocket, raising an eyebrow.

"You tricked me again," Mizutani protests as they join the queue. It's short, for some reason; maybe everyone prefers to bring their food and eat outside now that the weather's getting warmer.

"And again: way too easy. You might want to look into that, or it'll become a problem on the field."

That shakes Mizutani out of his contemplation on whether he should get some bread to top off his lunch. "Are we training again?"

Izumi snorts. "It never ends."

So it turns out that getting him off does not make Izumi any nicer when it comes to training. Big surprise there.

* * *

Mizutani manages to hide his disappointment when Momokan calls Nishihiro for left field a couple of days later. It hasn't been long enough, obviously.

It still sucks, and he's kind of tempted to go over and tell Izumi his teaching methods are sub-par, but his friend is currently getting assaulted by his one-man fan club, and Mizutani isn't getting anywhere near that.

He doesn't have to: Izumi manages to get away from Asai on his own and walks over to him, looking exhausted. Mizutani forgets all the unfair things he was about to say.

"Hey, do you want to stay over after the game? My mom will be taping it, so..."

"I won't be on the tape," Mizutani reminds him, trying not to sulk.

"So you get to criticize my form without risk."

More, like, he gets to watch Izumi over-analyze his own game and make appropriate noises when he doesn't entirely disagree. Still, it's better than sitting at home taking his sister's teasing about not being in the game in the first place.

Even better than that, it turns out, because after the rundown of Izumi's failings (which didn't stop him from batting in the winning run), after taking _Izumi's brother's_ teasing about not being in the game, after dinner and lights out (it never ceases to amuse him that they still have a curfew at their age), they end up on the futon again, kissing like they have all the time in the world. At least until they get impatient.

Mizutani jerks him off under the covers, and it's only a couple of seconds before Izumi rolls him over to reciprocate. Just laying back and letting it happen, Mizutani discovers that evening, is kind of awesome.

* * *

The internet says it's okay.

Or if not entirely okay, at least expected of a red-blooded teenager: the curiosity, the temptation. From the extended research Mizutani does, every teenage boy ever has done, or been tempted to do, these things with another guy. It's just the body going crazy, webpage after webpage tells him. It doesn't have to mean anything.

So that's okay, then, and when he stays over after the next two official games, Mizutani doesn't waste time worrying over it.

He does _think_ about it, sometimes, mostly when he's alone in bed but also on occasion in completely inappropriate situations. Like when Momokan calls practice to order and starts listing the next game's lineup.

First, Izumi, center field. No surprise there, nor with Sakaeguchi or Suyama after him, and batting fourth is Tajima.

First base.

Mizutani hears Tajima's dismayed sound, gets distracted enough from his more entertaining thoughts in time to wonder if he's secretly injured, as Momokan moves on to Hanai, and then--

Batting sixth, third base, Mizutani.

He says yes reflexively and she goes on; seventh, left field, Nishihiro, and then Abe and Mihashi but Mizutani's brain is still fried.

Then Momokan is dismissing them and he sees Nishihiro walk off with a slumped Oki. Mizutani stands frozen in place for a moment, then in the midst of his teammates disbanding Izumi comes to him, with a smile that he's privately classified as pleased-but-doesn't-want-to-show-it. Their fists bump between them, quietly. Mizutani beams -- can't help himself.

"Now you have to work twice as hard to prove you deserve it," Izumi points out.

Maybe they've been training together too much, but Mizutani isn't even surprised. "I guess so. Third base, though?"

"Stop right there," Izumi says, inexplicably serious. "If you give anyone the slightest hint that third base isn't everything you ever wanted, Tajima will maul you to get it back."

"No, I want it!" Mizutani almost yells, flailing his arms in denegation.

Izumi smirks. "Look like it, then."

"Tyrant." Not that it stops him from following Izumi's instructions faithfully for the next couple of days, until it's the night before the game and he finds himself laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

What if he can't do it? What if he freezes? There are techniques, sure, but none of them are perfectly efficient. What if he becomes unable to make abstraction of the cheering, or misses a fly ball or forgets which way is left?

He spends an hour playing Bejeweled on his phone before glancing back at the clock and closing his eyes in disgust.

Here's another question: what is he going to tell Momokan tomorrow, "I was so afraid I wouldn't wake up for the game that I didn't even fall asleep"? She's going to kill him if he gets sleepy. Kill him dead.

He needs help.

The phone rings five long times. "What?" a gruff voice answers right when Mizutani is about to give up.

"Hi," he says as cheerfully as he can manage.

"Mizutani. What time..." he hears a clatter, a distant curse. "You better be dying."

"I can't sleep," he says, which isn't quite as good as imminent death but still worthy of consideration.

"Sucks to be you," Izumi says, entirely unsympathetic.

Mizutani feels himself pout, and rolls onto his stomach.

"You're supposed to be helping me," he whines.

"Right. Here, have some guidance: go to sleep."

"That's not helpful."

"I'm not singing you a lullaby, Mizutani."

Every inflexion in his voice makes it obvious that he's both pissed off and half asleep, but there's something in the way he says Mizutani's name that makes him want to ask if they can have phone sex.

Only the awareness that Izumi would find a way to neuter him through the phone makes him abstain, but his hand still slides down his body, almost without prompting.

"Tell me a story," he says.

In the silence that follows he wraps his hand around his half hard cock and starts stroking loosely.

"Once upon a time," Izumi grits out, which makes Mizutani smile because he's bitching on the inside but doing it anyway, "there was a boy who decided to bother his teammate in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. The next day, in a very important game, they _both_ weren't any good, so the team lost. The boy learned to never do it again, the end."

Not exactly conducive to getting off, as stories go. "That's depressing."

"It's a cautionary tale."

"You think I won't be any good?" Mizutani hears himself ask, almost pleading.

The line goes quiet for a moment. "You'll do fine," Izumi says, no trace of annoyance or tiredness left in his voice.

"But what if I don't? What if--?"

"Listen. We're having Korean barbecue tomorrow," Izumi interrupts. "If you don't play well enough, I'm taking all your meat."

That's just so mean Mizutani can't find the words for a moment.

"Petty," he whines.

"Don't care. You better come through or you don't get dinner tomorrow. It's that simple. Now I'm going to hang up and get some sleep, and you should do the same."

Mizutani closes his eyes. "Yeah. Good night."

"See you tomorrow, Mizutani," and then a click and the dead line tonality.

Mizutani sinks lower inside his bed. He's only half hard, but that gets fixed quickly enough as he clenches his eyes shut and his left hand around the silent phone and strokes himself in a long, drawn-out motion.

But even pacing himself doesn't work, now that he has random memories flashing behind his eyelids, a smile or a groan or the slow curl of Izumi's hand around his cock.

He lays there afterward, covers kicked off, hand still wrapped around his phone, smiling for no reason.

 _You'll do fine_ , he repeats to himself, and falls asleep within minutes.

* * *

The first inning flies by. Izumi gets on first easily enough, Sakaeguchi sacrifices to get him on second, Suyama hits right into the third baseman's hands, then Tajima hits a good one, a long one, but Izumi overestimates the distance and gets cut off at home. That gets him an uncomfortable moment facing Momokan in the dugout, and Mizutani can't help but wince at the thought of how hard Izumi will be on himself for it.

When his time comes, Abe doesn't waste any time to set his pace against the top of the lineup: eleven pitches, three strikeouts, and the side is retired.

Tajima and Mihashi approach Mizutani as soon as they come back to the dugout, Tajima already wriggling his fingers and grinning.

"I'm good," Mizutani assures them, and finds it's true, even: the pitcher is the same one who took out Suyama effortlessly, but for some reason Mizutani isn't intimidated, not even after Hanai hits a clean double, making the crowd roar.

He's calm, still, as he walks onto the batter's box, takes his stance. Nods.

The pitcher starts his motion and without a doubt, before he's even released the pitch, Mizutani knows it's going to be a ball. He lets it fly past.

"Ball!"

_You'll do fine._

He doesn't get the same moment of perfect clarity with the next pitch, but somehow he sees it, a fastball and he swings without a second thought.

It soars.

Mizutani gets past first base at full speed, not even listening to the base coach's instruction because he knows he can keep going, has to, past second base even, faster faster faster until he slides the rest of the distance, definitely hears the smack of the ball hitting the third baseman's glove _after_ his feet hit the base.

A few dozen seconds later, he makes eye contact with Nishihiro for the first time since -- ever, more or less. Mizutani grins encouragingly.

Nishihiro takes a deep breath and sets up. He swings too high on the first pitch, lets the second one fly by, but on the third he makes contact, pushes it just past the infield.

Second run.

Mizutani floats his way through the rest of the game. The top of the second was only the beginning: in the bottom of the same inning he makes a semi-miraculous catch and relays it perfectly, cutting the cleanup off at first (that Tajima was there may have helped, admittedly). In his second at-bat he brings Tajima home and Hanai to third, and then it just keeps going, he does everything right every time the ball comes his way, except for that small bit of overconfidence in the sixth, when he gets tagged at second.

By the end of the fifth even Tajima is looking at him the same way he stares at pitchers sometimes. Oki seems to be filled with nervous energy, which Mizutani recognizes for having felt it only too recently -- the excitement, the want to be part of it. Even Mihashi comes to him, fidgeting, one hand raised for a high-five. Hamada is in top form, too, and Mizutani's name rises from the stands, gets woven with Nishiura's until he feels alone with the praise in the stadium.

Nishiura wins by 8-3, with Mizutani having participated in six of their runs and prevented at least two more.

The feeling is indescribable, lasts even after the two teams have bowed to each other, even after ground maintenance -- it feels like each of his teammates wants to congratulate him, and complete strangers as well. Momokan herself has nothing but praise for him; even Shinooka smiles at him with open delight, meets his eyes in a way he feels she hasn't in six months.

That's when he notices that he hasn't seen Izumi since the end of the game. That they haven't even really talked since it began.

Weird.

The chorus of praise continues as the team heads back to school, but now he can't help but notice that Izumi is standing aside a little. It's kind of unnerving.

As usual, Momokan makes them all give their impressions of the game, and that's another high, hearing it from each of his teammates in turn, even those who didn't get to play.

"Obviously Mizutani was in the zone," Izumi says when his turn comes, "but I thought the pitch-calling was really efficient today. They got intimidated from the first inning; that served us a lot in the long run."

And that's that.

Momokan keeps practice going later today; by the time the team gets to the convenience store, Mizutani is pretty sure there won't be time to watch even a short selection of his best moments on tape before dinner.

That's if he even gets there, because the way Izumi has been behaving, he doesn't even know if he's still invited over, which sucks, and not only because he's been carrying a change of clothes all day. There's Korean barbecue on the line, dammit, and also the other thing which, admittedly, Mizutani was kind of looking forward to.

Izumi spends the entire time at the convenience store talking to Asai; Mizutani isn't interested in what they're saying to each other, and chats with an unusually relaxed Mihashi instead.

And then finally everyone separates with more calls of 'good job, Mizutani" and he hesitates for a moment before noticing that Izumi and Asai are kind of waiting for him.

" _Aimi_?" Asai is saying, shocked and appalled, when Mizutani gets level with them. "I mean, Shiba-senpai? Why?"

"You'd think he'd have known better, right?" Mizutani isn't looking, but he's pretty sure Izumi is rolling his eyes.

"But that's..." Whatever _that_ is, Asai seems to be having trouble getting his mind around it.

Izumi shrugs. "It doesn't really matter. They broke up already anyway."

Ah, yes. Mizutani's heard of this, hasn't he? Izumi's middle school girlfriend running off with another player on his team. For some reason he still remembers the look on Izumi's face when he found out. The memory sends a chill down his back, which is silly when Izumi is obviously fine with it now.

"But wasn't that only last year?" Asai asks in the tones of one who knows he's pushing his luck but is going to try anyway.

"We had different expectations from high school," Izumi answers. "We didn't think it'd force someone to choose where to go." He's teasing now, laughing a little: Mizutani wonders how fast that might change if Asai tries to push it any further.

Apparently he knows better, though. Or maybe that's because they're standing at the street corner where their paths separate.

"I'm glad I came to Nishiura," the kid says after a moment's hesitation. "Today was..." He turns to Mizutani and grins widely at him, eyes shining with the same admiration he had for Izumi on their first meeting.

Mizutani kind of stumbles over his own feet.

"Today was a good day," Izumi concedes. "Now, shouldn't you be going home?"

Asai's face falls, but he recovers quick enough. "See you tomorrow, senpai!" he calls cheerfully as he disappears down a side street.

"Sorry," Izumi says after they've started walking again, with the bikes between them. "That was kind of rude, talking about that stuff while you were there."

"It's fine" is all Mizutani manages to make himself say. He wants to know things too, like who it is Izumi didn't go to high school with, how that relates to the girlfriend he only ever mentioned in passing, and most importantly why he's acting as though today's game didn't happen.

No answer comes forth, so they walk the rest of the way in silence.  


* * *

"Dinner in fifteen minutes!" Izumi's mom calls from the kitchen when they come in. No time for video, then. As expected.

"Got it," Izumi says, and heads straight to his his bedroom.

The moment Mizutani is through the door, he gets pushed back against it, with Izumi's hands flat on either side of his head.

"Good game today." Any other time, his predatory grin would have been enough to make Mizutani gulp in a mixture of fear and anticipation, but tonight he's a little annoyed.

"I didn't think you'd noticed," he says, not sure if he's trying to sound more hurt than he is or to make light of it; it falls flat in the middle, which is 'sulky kid'.

"Nobody could _not_ have noticed."

He doesn't ask why Izumi didn't say anything then, because that would just sound like whining. Plus, everybody else congratulated him, so what does one more person change?

"But since everyone wanted a piece of you, I just thought I'd save it until now."

"What's now?" he asks, a little but curious despite his misgivings.

The grin turns feral. "Now is the freebie you get for batting a 1.0 and saving two runs today."

The last words are whispered against his ear, as Izumi's hand falls down to his thigh, a single finger brushing lightly down the fly of his cargo pants.

"I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I didn't notice." His hand moves back up, several fingers this time and a little more pressure. It's kind of shameful that it doesn't take any more than that to make Mizutani hard. "I didn't want to embarrass you out there, in front of the girls and everything." Down, and back up again, making the point with perfect clarity. "But now I've got ten minutes to make it worth your while, so what do you say?" Fingers hooking into his belt, tugging at it experimentally.

"Yes, please?"

"Good." He feels the tug, the slight fumble that suggests that Izumi is undoing his pants one-handedly. It'll occur to him to be impressed, later; for now his head is swimming. "Because that was seriously amazing, and I really wanted to tell you that, on behalf of all the girls who fell for you today."

"Don't be mean," Mizutani tries to say because while he's used to Izumi's teasing, sometimes it goes a little further than he can take. But the sentence ends in a gasp, because. Hand.

"I'm not," Izumi whispers against his ears, and belies it by trailing his fingers too lightly against the head of Mizutani's erection. "You were on fire out there. I don't think there's anyone in that stadium who could keep their eyes off you." The words are distracting, but in a good way. They don't usually talk (oh god, has this happened often enough that he can say 'usually'?), too busy kissing and trying to keep each other silent, so he didn't know how that felt until now.

It's really good, and Izumi doesn't seem to want to stop.

"I know nobody did in the dugout. Never seen this many people taking cell-phone pictures at a game, either. You're a hero tonight."

"So you..." he gasps, and tries again. " _You_ were looking at the bleachers, then?"

Izumi's grip tightens, making Mizutani whine at the back of his throat. "Peripheral vision, smartass. I just thought you'd like to hear about it. In detail."

Oh, he does. Especially in that voice, which makes him buck his hips just as much as the actual touch.

"Good thinking," he hears himself say, barely remembering what he's answering to. He can hear there's an answer, but Mizutani is past listening to words at this point, can't do much better than feel and try to breathe.

He likes that Izumi keeps talking, though, even if he's not paying attention to the words. There's something about that that makes the whole thing even better, Izumi's attention focused on him and the breath against his neck, making him shiver.

Then he hears it, in the middle of whatever it is he's being told.

"--ove you," and his eyes snap open, his heartbeat accelerates madly. Did Izumi just say--

He must have, because immediately after he takes a step back, pulls away so they're completely apart. He's obviously expecting an answer, but Mizutani has no idea what to say, is lost in the panic of what's happening because oh god he really didn't see that one coming.

After a few seconds of spooked silence Izumi turns away and Mizutani wants to scream _no, don't stop, can't we find a way to make this work?_

There's a click, and music fills the room. It's one of those songs they use for concentration training, with a beat one could get lost into-- and by the time he's assessed that, Izumi is in his space again, hand resting lightly on Mizutani's hip.

"I need you to be really quiet now," he whispers in Mizutani's ear, which, okay, easy enough considering he has no idea what to say. "Close your eyes."

That's kind of suspicious but he obtemperates anyway, and Izumi's weight against him falls away again, which he doesn't even have time to mourn because then his cock is getting attention again, warm and slick, and--

He gasps.

Izumi clicks his tongue irritably, making Mizutani vow to not make a single sound ever again because he really doesn't want to do anything to keep that tongue away from where it was, which is against him, trailing from the base of his erection to the top.

He takes a deep breath, the only alternative to moaning out loud, and tries to relax into it, which involves pushing his hips forward a bit.

Izumi's mouth wraps around the head of his cock and Mizutani's pretty sure he's supposed to keep his eyes closed but he can't, it's that simple. Not when there's his friend kneeling in front of him, sucking lightly at the sensitive skin like he's experimenting, trying to find out what feels good.

If the price for this is hearing the occasional love confession, Mizutani can totally take that.

The silence, though, the silence is difficult, especially when Izumi's mouth slides down on him, so quick it's overwhelming. Mizutani has to bite down on his wrist and concentrate on breathing.

He's trying to not move too much, to not force anything, but his hips are twitching with the music, which Mizutani realizes is also how Izumi is sucking him, his mouth moving back and forth around his cock in time with the beat, which makes it inexplicably hotter.

Mizutani wonders if that won't completely kill his ability to filter the song out next time they work on concentration, but that's a question for another time. Right now all there is is slick and tight suction (and a bit of teeth sometimes but seriously, he doesn't even care) until all he can think is _don't scream, don't scream, there are people right outside the door_ only that seems to make it even worse, makes him fall over the edge with a hiss around his wrist and Izumi takes it, lets the cum flow into his mouth, which is pretty much the hottest thing Mizutani's ever experienced.

The moment he relaxes against the door, Izumi crawls away to spit into a paper tissue. That's a little less hot.

Mizutani does up his pants before sliding down the door, as far as he feels he can go on his shaking legs.

"Dinner in five minutes," Izumi tells him, crawling back to sit in front of him. "You do get to eat, in case you were wondering."

Oh yeah, there was food. Once upon a time, it seemed important. Then Izumi dropped to his knees and the world fell away, but before that--

"I should, er. Bathroom." Mizutani scrambles unsteadily to his feet.

Thankfully, he doesn't encounter anyone on his way there, and manages to make himself presentable with a minimum of effort. But he's still in there, looking dazedly at the mirror, when Izumi-san calls for dinner.

Mizutani splashes his face with water once more before heading for the living room. Everyone is already there, so he takes his customary seat without making eye contact with Izumi and tries his best to smile normally. It's not easy, considering Izumi's mom spends five minutes telling her husband about his exploits today and keeps asking how he feels about the achievement.

He tries, he really does, but every time he says anything he's afraid he'll end up tagging _and then your son said he loved me_. He manages, though, until the bomb.

"You'll be getting a dozen confessions after this!" Mizutani knows he misses cues every now and then, but he also lives with a mother and a sister and that, as far as prying into his personal life, was as subtle as a tidal wave.

"Leave him alone, Ma," Izumi dives in. It's what he does, it's what he's always done, rescuing Mizutani from conversations like this one, but after the earlier revelation it feels strange, possessive. "You're acting like he never had a hit in his life before."

"Aren't you just jealous because nobody's going to confess to you after _your_ game?" his brother asks. "It's not good to be envious like that."

Izumi shrugs. "None that are willing to go on dates between wind sprints, for some reason. Have you _seen_ my schedule?" Mizutani has to look at him, then, and finds him looking as though he's bored out of his mind by the conversation, which is a pretty good cover even if it's not the real reason.

It's enough, at least, to make the conversation move on at last, switching almost seamlessly to Izumi's dad's workplace. The question stays, though, swivels inside Mizutani's head the whole time even as he tries to pay attention. What does he do, if Izumi is in love with him?

Because it's not... that was never... and anyway he likes Shinooka, or at least girls in general so even though they've been doing this kind of regularly it's not like it means anything. But he doesn't want to lead Izumi on, or hurt him, so...

"Thank you for the food," the eldest son says before getting up without further ado. Blinking back into the present, Mizutani starts piling up dishes just as Izumi's phone rings in his pocket.

"It's Masaru," he says after a quick glance to the screen.

His mother sighs. "Of course. You're excused. Mizutani-kun, will you help me with the dishes?"

"Sure!" he chirps, eyes following Izumi's exit.

"Did you see anything?" Izumi's dad asks as he unfolds his newspaper.

"It's been too long, I wasn't expecting it at all," she answers. Confused, Mizutani waits until he's in the kitchen with Izumi's mom to ask.

She laughs. "For a while after Kousuke got his cellphone, Masaru-kun would call him almost every evening, right as we left the table. We never knew how he did it, but he got out of cleaning duty many times this way." She sounds amused, passes him clean plates as she talks.

"You still let him do it?" Mizutani asks, then mentally beats himself up for implicitly siding with a parent.

She seems to consider the question. "You have to promise not to tell Kousuke about this."

"Okay," he stammers, trying to keep up with the plates.

She winks at him conspiratorially. "We've been trying to figure out how they do it. It's uncanny, he never misses." She laughs again, almost to herself. "We haven't seen Masaru-kun much since they entered high school, though. I was worried they'd had a fight. But enough about old stories! Did Kousuke at least compliment you properly for your game? Oh, please do be careful with the glasses."

"Sorry," Mizutani says, checking that he didn't bump the glass too hard against the counter. "It's not really something to be complimented over, I think? I mean, I just played."

"Ah, but that boy is so proud of you, he should at least let you know."

Proud.

 _Proud of you_. Of course. That makes a lot more sense than... the other thing.

"He told me," Mizutani confirms, the words thick and heavy in his mouth.

He zones out for a second, then the slush of dishwater brings him back to the moment at hand, and he makes himself smile. "But he should be proud of himself. I wouldn't even have played in this game if it wasn't for him."

"My boy does love a challenge," she says, the smile obvious through her words. Then he sees her freeze, remembers the conversation earlier: _You're acting like he's never had a hit in his life._ "Ah, I don't mean..."

"I was kind of hopeless, huh?"

He thinks, maybe, she's shaking her head; but it's so small it might be just wishful thinking on her part. "The work was your own, even if you were helped on the way. You should be proud too, for yourself." She turns to wink at him again. "But not too proud, girls don't like that."

He blinks. Girls? "I guess they don't, huh?"

It makes her laugh, for some reason, and mumble something to herself about youth.

They wash in silence for a moment, but when he has nothing left to wipe because she's still scrubbing at the griddle, she calls his name in a much more serious tone.

"Huh?"

"My son says it's none of my business," she says, and Mizutani feels his heart rate shoot up again. "But I have to ask. Is everything okay at home?"

That's... what? Where did _that_ come from? "Uh, sure? Why?"

The sloshing of the water stops for a second. "The first time you spent the night here, you looked... devastated."

He probably did, at that. That's certainly how he felt after being rejected so deliberately, by the girl he'd had his eyes on for months. But he's used to the knowledge that she doesn't want him, by now, and it barely even twinges anymore.

"That was, er." And what is he supposed to tell Izumi's mom anyway? "Just... something. Not at home. I'm fine now!" he assures her, but that doesn't seem to convince her, judging by the looks she throws him as she hands him the clean griddle. "Really!"

"You've been coming here a lot, Mizutani-kun." She takes a look at his face and smiles. "And we all appreciate your presence, so don't you worry about it. But my husband and I were wondering if there's a reason you never invite Kousuke over."

 _Because my sister is nosy and my bedroom door doesn't lock._ "I like the food!" he answers too forcefully, and feels himself blush as she takes the griddle and the dishtowel from his hands. "That's... I mean..."

"You sure know how to get into a woman's heart," which is totally untrue because praising Shinooka's onigiri never got him anywhere.

"Don't worry, I won't tell your mother," she promises. Except he's seen that exact same expression on her son's face before, usually right before someone started begging for mercy from the vicious tickling, and he's pretty sure she _will_ tell his mom at some point and then she'll make sad eyes at him until he either swears on his life that her cooking is the best he's ever had (it's not) or moves here permanently.

"Er. Thanks?"

She laughs, and again: not reassuring. "And you're always welcome in our home."

He wouldn't be, if she knew what he does here. But he smiles at her and thanks her again and remembers to his manners when she thanks him for indulging an old woman before sending him off to prepare for bed.

He finds a toothbrush on the sink that wasn't there before, still in its plastic packaging, with the first kanji of his name written on the back in black marker. He looks at it for a moment, wondering if this is Izumi's writing (well, obviously, but which one?). Then rips it apart as he wonders why it should even matter.

Except he hopes Izumi ( _Kousuke_ ) knows about this and agreed to it, at least because wouldn't it be weird for him to not know that Mizutani now warrants his own toothbrush in his home? Obviously, he knows how often Mizutani's come here recently, but it's not like they have a standing arrangement or anything like that.

It could stop anytime, Mizutani realizes, staring at himself in the mirror, toothbrush dangling from his mouth as he grips the sink with both hands. All it'd take is for both of them to not suggest Mizutani come over and that'd be it, and now that Mizutani is back on the team, even if only on a timeshare, there isn't even the excuse of extra training.

That thought is... it was scary earlier, when he thought Izumi had said 'I love you'; he panicked a little, maybe, what with having no idea what to do. This is different. It's not his heart fluttering, it's a stone in his stomach. It's the urge to get back to Izumi rather than try to stay away in order to get his thoughts sorted.

This, he realizes, wiping the trail of spit and white paste off his mouth, is fear. Which means that the other thing must have been something else, but there's no need to deal with that anyway since he so obviously got it wrong in the first place.

It takes him a while to calm down, but when he gets back to Izumi's room he's ready to handle anything the world throws at him.

"Photographic evidence," Izumi is saying, feet propped up on his desk and twirling a pencil around his index finger. "No, I still won't believe you, but I want to see it anyway."

He's on the phone, Mizutani realizes. He grabs a manga at random from the shelves and sits cross-legged on the futon, leaving the book dangling from his hand.

A second later, Izumi takes his feet off the desk and swivels around on the chair, looking down. "Obviously," he snorts, rolling his eyes. "They made you clean-up in your second year, of course you have a better average than-- you know what, I'm not even debating this with you."

Whoever's on the other side must have an interesting way to protest, because Izumi clicks his tongue like he did earlier, when Mizutani was making too much noise. "Yeah, well. We won our game too, and my manager is better than yours. If we're done with the dumb competitions, it's getting late." A few seconds' pause, then "You do that. Bye."

He's smiling when he hangs up, though, a small curve at the edge of his lips. Then he slips his phone back in his pocket and looks up; Mizutani opens the book at random and pretends to have been deeply immersed in it.

He doesn't realize until too late that he was holding it the wrong way around.

The phone buzzes in Izumi's pocket before either of them says anything. He groans, but grabs it, hits a few buttons, then freezes with a horrified grin.

"I don't believe it." He sits heavily on the bed. Mizutani pushes himself up to sit at his side, eager to finally get a hint of what's going on.

"What is it?" he asks, but by that point he can already see the picture on the screen.

It's a girl.

She's wearing her long hair in a high ponytail that bursts out of the adjuster of her baseball cap. In the first picture her back is mostly turned as she bends over a case of balls, obviously unaware that she's being photographed. But as Izumi flips through them, they find clearer pictures: she stands smiling by a field as she watches the team of boys wearing the same uniform as hers, sits in the dugout mending balls, stretches her arms to the sky by a water cooler.

"She's pretty," Mizutani says at the eighth picture, pulling away. There's probably nothing for him to learn there, anyway.

"I guess," Izumi answers, still peering over the pictures. "That's not what you'd notice about her, though. It's the way she moves, like she always knows where her body is and where it'll be the next moment. Always graceful, with the haughtiness to match."

"Who's she?" Mizutani asks, prompted by the unexpected flow of information. He picks up the book and gets up to put it back on its shelf.

"I told you about her. My middle school girlfriend?"

"The one who ended up with the clean-up of your old team?" He only notices at the end of the sentence that it was a pretty mean thing to say.

"That one exactly. They're in the same high school, too." He smirks. "And on the same team, now."

Now Mizutani gets it. Probably. "Oh, so he took the pictures?" As though he knew Izumi would demand to see them. It's strange, though; on none of them does she seem to be posing for the camera, or even aware that it's there. They're stealthy shots, secrets. He has a few similar ones of Shinooka, that he'll swallow his phone before showing anybody.

"Yep." Izumi shakes his head. "I still can't believe it. Little miss baseball-is-boring, suddenly deciding to become her high school's team manager."

"Talk about irony," Mizutani says. He kind of wants the conversation to be over now, but that would be a little unfair considering he's the one who started it in the first place.

"He deserves it," Izumi says absently, tossing his phone away.

"Sounds like he did," Mizutani answers.

Izumi's head tilts a little, turns to him. Mizutani feels himself smile a little because the trek down memory lane appears to finally be over and they can return their attention to today's main event, which is Mizutani being awesome and not a girl Izumi hasn't seen in a year. They're so close right now, shoulder to shoulder and there's an intimate feeling that Mizutani can't quite describe; He doesn't try to, just tilts his head, starts closing his eyes...

"I should go brush my teeth," Izumi says, getting up. He doesn't look back on his way out the door.

Mizutani flops down onto the futon, buries his face in the pillow. What now? What is Izumi doing, ignoring him throughout the day before giving him a blowjob only to ignore him again? If he's so proud of him, shouldn't he be showing it a little?

Only... there's one answer that Mizutani's internet research didn't yield. It's okay to be curious, and to act on it if the occasion presents itself, but what happens if you try something out and hate it?

He groans. Wouldn't that be just his luck, if Izumi's decided that blowing him was going too far and wants to call everything off? Not that there's anything to call off. It's all been just a string of one-time decisions.

"Are you trying to suffocate yourself?"

"Maybe," he mumbles into the pillow, wondering how he didn't hear the door open while at the same time praising all higher powers that Izumi seldom asks _why_.

This time is no exception. A hum is all the answer he gets, and the sound of the door being locked.

Does that mean something? Does Izumi lock his door every night (probably, right, because his brother is kind of a prankster), or does he intend to--

Turn off the light, sit on the futon. Mizutani turns his head the tiniest but to breathe and catches the smallest whiff of mint.

"You better not be drooling on my pillow."

There's something in his tone, in the playfulness of it, that throws Mizutani's brain into another loop because now it seems Izumi's ready to get back to their not-officially-scheduled post-curfew activities.

He doesn't get it, he really doesn't, but in doubt, might as well just roll with it.

* * *

After Mizutani's prowess on the field, it's no surprise that he gets to play in the next game. Momokan sends him back to left field but keeps him sixth in the lineup and even tells him she's counting on him.

It doesn't work. Whatever it is that carried him through the previous game, it's not there this time. He doesn't make mistakes, exactly, nothing to make Abe or Momokan rage at him, but there's no miracle either.

Nishiura wins the game, barely, and as expected the first thing Izumi does when they get back to his place is pull out the tape from his mom's video recorder.

"I don't want to see it," Mizutani tells him, moody. What he wants, right now, is to go to Izumi's room and lock the door and make out until they get called for dinner and then again after. _That_ should make him feel better. Rehashing all the things he did, not even wrong but not quite right enough, isn't going to help right now, and he's fully ready to make that argument.

"Okay," Izumi says slowly as he gets up. "Go home, then."

"I--what?"

Izumi shrugs, and lets himself fall on the couch as the tape starts, complete with embarrassing motherly commentary. "If you're backing out, go home. I'm busy."

He doesn't even grace Mizutani with a look, watching the two teams bow to each other instead.

That's... it's that simple, for him? This whole routine that they've developed between them, the one that ends wrapped around each other in the dark, all it takes to shatter it is for Mizutani to say he doesn't want to stare at baseball for three hours after playing baseball the entire day?

So why should he even stay, then?

"Good afternoon, Mizutani-kun."

He whips around and finds Izumi's mom smiling at him. _You're always welcome here._ Or so she thinks. "Good afternoon, Izumi-san."

She glances over his shoulder. "Kousuke, you could at least offer your guest a drink!"

"He knows where the kitchen is," Izumi snaps back. He pauses the game, but not to join the conversation. Instead he leans forward, staring at the defense formation.

His mother sighs. "There's just no helping him when he's like this. Settle down, Mizutani-kun, I'll get you boys a soda."

So he does, because she's always been nice to him even if her good intentions can be kind of misplaced, and he doesn't want to start a scene. He sits at the foot of the sofa, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"So you're staying, then." He sounds completely neutral about it. It stings, but Mizutani tries not to let it get to him.

"I've got nothing better to do anyway."

So he stays, and analyzes the game and drinks the soda and eats the food, and by the time the call for lights out resonates in the corridor he finds that Izumi isn't so annoyed with him that he'll deny himself the orgasm, and neither is Mizutani.  


* * *

Momokan takes him out of the next game, which Izumi insists is not the consequence of his poor performance but because she's trying to balance the ten of them more or less equally. That's a lie, though, because it's not like she'd remove Tajima from the lineup, or Hanai or Abe or Mihashi. Or, come to think of it, Suyama or Izumi or Sakaeguchi, and he's pretty sure she feels bad about doing it to Oki as well.

Bad luck or karmic retribution: that's Nishiura's last game in the spring tournament, kicked out at the best eight level, barely one round further than in summer.

Defeat, he learns then, only makes Izumi train harder. Kind of like victory, if he thinks about it. But at least the undefined thing between them goes back to what passes for normal; training and reviewing and, maybe once a week, a sleepover at Izumi's.

It's not enough.

Because sure he loves the food, and the seamless way the family's made a space for him, and the slight depression in the futon that makes him perfectly comfortable when Izumi is on top of him. But he's always the one who has to move, and it'd be nice to know, even just once, that Izumi would make the effort too.

It'd be even nicer to know that he'd do it without the lure of a baseball tape or endless hitting practice.

But that's just not how they do it, so if he wants that to happen, he has to ask.

Over the three days after making the decision, Mizutani finds that simply asking is a lot more difficult than he'd thought. Sure, the worst thing Izumi can do is say no, but that's the problem: he _can_ say no.

Salvation comes from Momokan one morning, with the announcement that practice will be kept to a minimum in the evening as she has a meeting to attend. All it takes, from there, is to suggest Izumi come over for the afternoon, then let it drag into the evening until his mom or his sister offers that Izumi stays for dinner, and then maybe for the night.

He doesn't even have to ask himself, not the important part at least.

Still, even like that, he finds himself struggling with the suggestion all through lunch, and ends up at afternoon practice having said absolutely nothing of consequence regarding the rest of the day.

But there should still be time around the end of practice. That might be even better, come to think of it. He can even play it like the idea's just come to him.

Still, that's all of practice spent glancing at Izumi, and when finally the session ends Mizutani gets tasked with picking up the balls that reached the edge of the field.

"Hey, sorry to bother you. Are you in the baseball club?" It's probably Izumi's bad influence that he wants to ask "what does this look like to you, gardening?", but Mizutani manages to go with a less aggressive "uh, yeah?"

He pivots to get the setting sun off his face, and finds a guy leaning against the fence. He's tall, has a sports bag at his feet and he looks kind of familiar but Mizutani can't place him. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for-- hang on, you're that guy, right? I remember you. Good game in the spring tournament."

It's something in the way he says it, in the phrasing and the intonation, that makes it click for Mizutani a second before Asai comes rushing in.

"Higa-senpai!" he calls in that same reverent way he talked to Izumi in the beginning. "It's great to see you here, how are you?"

The guy, Higa, laughs. Mizutani finds it grating. "I'm good," he says, starting to walk toward the entrance of the field. "What about you, are they treating you right in this place?"

"It's great! There's--"

"I'll just stay here and finish picking up the balls, then," Mizutani says to no-one in particular as they walk off. Which is a good thing, since nobody seems to be listening.

By the time he's done out there and has dropped the full bucket in the hand of the first first-year that had the misfortune to cross him, the visitor has already made his way inside, and a cluster has formed around him. Asai, of course, but also Hamada and Izumi. All three of them are still changing, but they're chatting with him easily.

"Do you know who that guy is?" Abe asks, popping up at Mizutani's side in that way he has that is creepy and unnatural.

"Dunno." Even though he has a pretty good idea. "Asai called him Higa-senpai."

Abe's face freezes. "Higa," he repeats. "From Izumi's middle school."

"Probably, so?"

"So," Abe says in a long-suffering tone, "that's Higashikuni Masaru over there." He must have seen Mizutani's confusion, because he groans in annoyance. "He's the best batter in Omiya Kita, and I hear they're getting dangerous this year. That guy has no business coming over here right before the summer tournament."

Mizutani is about to say that indeed the guy is clearly spying and should be tossed out of the grounds, possibly by Hanai and Suyama (or maybe just Momokan) when, on the other side of the dugout, Hamada bursts out laughing.

"She didn't!"

Higashikuni makes a face. "She really did." Then he turns to Izumi, who's wearing a large, satisfied grin. "You're enjoying this too much, Kou-chin."

The smile freezes on Izumi's face; Mizutani steels himself for an outburst, because no way does anybody get to call Izumi something like that and live to tell the tale.

"Oh, shut up," Izumi says, rolling his eyes. "Let's get going. I'm going to kick your ass."

"At what exactly?" Higashikuni asks, picking up his sports bag.

"Choose the game. Doesn't matter, I'll beat you anyway."

"We'll see about that. Senpai, are you coming with us?"

"Kiss-ass," Izumi scoffs, loud enough that everyone in the dugout can hear him. Hamada promptly grabs him into a headlock.

Mizutani turns away to find his clean shirt, but that doesn't stop the spluttering noises, or the laughter.

"Fine, fine, you can come too." Izumi pauses. From the corner of his eye, Mizutani sees him pivot in his direction. "What about you?"

Filled with relief, Mizutani opens his mouth to coolly answer that he has plans but can maybe change them.

"Sure! I'll be ready in a minute!" Asai chirps from right behind him.

They're gone in even less time than that. The last thing Mizutani hears is Izumi saying "so, senpai, are you paying for all of us?", the last thing he sees is a scuffle between the two of them as Higashikuni and Asai laugh along.

"What do you know about this guy?" Mizutani asks, looking back at Abe.

"Not much. One of my teammates on the Seniors was in their school, kept telling us how he was going to get him to quit the school club and join us. Said he was an amazing hitter. Higashikuni never even came to visit, though. Why are you interested in this?"

"No reason," Mizutani says, and lets Abe get back to Mihashi.

* * *

He goes home as soon as possible, and finds his sister sprawled on his spot in the sofa (that is, the entire sofa), digging a spoon into a tub of ice-cream the size of his head. "Bad day?" he asks, more to start a conversation than out of real concern.

She swallows a gigantic spoonful of strawberry ice cream and shrugs. "That cunt Rika stole the guy I wanted. Two months I've been going after him, and she..." She stops herself and sighs. "People suck. Come keep me company, my show is about to start."

That kind of doesn't make sense, but he knows better than to try to understand her reasoning when she's in that kind of mood. The offer is tempting, anyway. "Do I get ice-cream?"

"Grab your own spoon. And get the melon one while you're at it. I feel like experimenting."

Strawberry-melon turns out to be a weird combination but they keep eating it anyway, swapping tubs blindly as they debate the motives of the heroine for suddenly turning against her entire clan.

"Maybe she had other allegiances that we didn't know about," he says, holding up the strawberry.

She doesn't take it; instead her hand comes to rest on his head, scratching lightly. On any given day he'd tell her not to treat him like a dog, but right now it's kind of comforting, so he leans into it instead.

"You sound bitter today, little brother. Did you get your heart broken too?"

"No," he snorts, before forcing his attention back to the screen.

"Come on, tell me!" He hates it when she wheedles, because he always ends up telling her what she wants to know and in this case there's too much that she shouldn't hear about.

"It's nothing," he tries. "Not important."

"So it's not nothing, then."

"Don't play on words!" he chides her, only that sounds more like a whine. "I told you, it's--"

It's not nothing.

He sighs, leans further against her hand. "What do you do to get closer to someone who likes challenges?"

Thankfully, asking her for advice is an excellent way to stop her from nagging. She takes a dainty spoonful from the tub in his hand, contemplating. "The most obvious option would be to be a challenge yourself, I suppose?"

He lets his head fall back against the sofa to stare at the ceiling. That's not going to work, is it? He can train for every waking minute until the ends of time, but chances are he'll never be as good as even-Abe-knows-him Higashikuni Masaru.

"That'd be kind of dangerous, though. Once a challenge is overcome, it's not all that interesting anymore, right? So I think, maybe... either to be the one who brings them challenges, or to always be by their side when they face them?"

That sounds more achievable. Not easy, sure, but maybe possible.

All he needs to do is figure out how.

* * *

The next day, after escaping Tajima's hungry stare again, Mizutani finds himself lounging under a tree, eating his bento with the enthusiasm of one who suffers Momokan's training schedule, when Abe drops by.

"Did you get any info on Omiya Kita?" he asks without preamble.

Izumi stares at him in a way that would make even Tajima run the other way, but Abe has always been really bad at picking up these cues, and doesn't move.

"Why?"

"We might play them this summer. Any information we get is good."

Izumi rolls his eyes and packs his bento box. "I wasn't aware that spending time with a friend meant I was on a spying mission," he says testily. "All I can tell you is that they have a lot of confidence in their pitcher." He leans back on the grass and closes his eyes. "We actually have other things to talk about beside baseball, you know."

 _That_ , Mizutani finds a little bit surprising. But at least Abe gets the hint, even if he does it by huffing and stomping off dramatically, probably muttering under his breath about unhelpful teammates.

"One day," Izumi declares to the open sky, "I'm going to punch him in the face."

Mizutani laughs, even though it's not really all that funny. "And then we'll be kicked out of the tournament for having a brawl on the team."

"Maybe not, then. But seriously, can he get any creepier? Just because I'm friends with someone..."

"You've known each other a long time, though, right? With Higashikuni?" It's almost easy, asking like this, because Izumi's eyes are closed but Mizutani can see his expressions.

"My mom would tell you he's the first friend I met on the playground," Izumi says, stretching lazily. When he goes still again, his hand comes to rest right next to Mizutani's.

"Why your mom?"

"Because I don't even remember meeting him. He's always been there. We started playing baseball together, too."

Mizutani bites his lip. "But you went to different high schools?"

"You're asking a lot of questions." It's a mere statement, nothing like the annoyance he expressed at Abe earlier, so Mizutani feels allowed to keep going, at least for a little while.

"Because Asai said he had to choose between here and there. I kind of wondered about that." His hand slips a little to the side as he leans over a bit.

Izumi snorts. "It's not like we're rivals or anything."

Except... didn't he say once that only two second years got to play on the team? With Higashikuni apparently being an exceptional hitter, and Izumi including himself in the sentence, wouldn't that mean that they were the two best players on their team come third year? "Why not?"

He actually opens his eyes for that, looks at Mizutani. Maybe catches sight of the couple of centimeters separating their hands, and doesn't move his away. "I was never good enough for that."

 _Is that why you try so hard, then? To beat him?_ He hesitates, the words crowding his throat. "But now, if we play them and win, then..."

"Izumi-kun, Mizutani-kun, do you mind if we sit with you? There aren't a lot of spots left..."

Mizutani turns to see Shinooka standing right in front of them, in the same spot Abe was five minutes ago, accompanied by a girl he thinks, maybe, is in their year.

"Sure," Izumi says, sitting up again.

Shinooka smiles and takes a seat on the grass. Her companion follows. "Sorry for interrupting," she says, smoothing her skirt. "We couldn't find a spot, and I really wanted to spend some time outside for once."

"Miyo-chan is in the archery club," Shinooka explains, opening her bento box. "They've been training really hard."

"Like us, then," Mizutani points out.

"You're both in the baseball club, right? Chiyo-chan's tried to explain it to me, but... I don't know. I never quite got it, I think."

Shinooka shakes her head with a slight smile, privately.

"It's actually not that complicated," Izumi says. He pushes a few things a side and draws an imaginary diamond on the grass. "Nine players, nine innings. Each inning is divided in two, so both teams get to play offense and defense."

"I picked up that much," the girl says, but she leans in a little, her long black hair falling on either side of her face as she looks at the patch of grass Izumi is drawing on.

Mizutani sits back, half listening and half staring at Izumi as he explains the game. At one point, though, he has to edge in. "You can't run in that situation."

Izumi makes an annoyed face at him. "Don't interrupt. I'm explaining rules, not strategy." He turns back to Miyo-san. "You're allowed to run in that case, it's just a very bad idea."

She frowns in concentration. "Because then the pitcher can just throw to the baseman, and you're out?"

"Exactly. Then..."

It goes on for five more minutes, at which point Miyo shakes her head, blinking. "And this is... exciting?"

"Yes!" Mizutani protests, at exactly the same time as Shinooka. They automatically look at each other, sharing the indignation of seeing someone doubt the interest of baseball, and for the first time in months it's not awkward. She smiles, even, a little, before looking back at the conversation.

"That's a bad question to ask when you're surrounded by baseball fans, isn't it?" Miyo-san asks demurely.

"Like if we asked you if archery is exciting," Mizutani tells her. He sounds like he's scolding her a little, he realizes.

She looks at him for a moment. "It's not. Archery is about finding an inner balance. Being one with the target, and by extension the rest of the world. It's all calm and stillness, not running around after a ball." She immediately raises her hands. "Not that that's bad! It's just a different world."

"The summer tournament is starting soon," Izumi points out. "You should come see a game, see how exciting it is for yourself."

She looks back at him, smiling. "Maybe I'll do that."

Something unpleasant clenches in Mizutani's stomach, and even when he walks back to class with Shinooka half an hour later, listening to her explain that she and Miyo-chan were in the same class throughout middle school, he can't get it to go away.

* * *

With the return of the sun comes more practice.

A lot more practice, in fact, and games as often as Momokan can schedule them.

Still, though Mizutani takes some pleasure in reminding the first years that the summer schedule is even worse whenever they start complaining about it, the next weeks are gone in a flash.

Suddenly, it's a week to the draw for the summer tournament.

The tension rises subtly, with first-years peering enthusiastically at charts and team names and wishing on stars or something that they'll get an easy one on the first round. Abe must have gotten to them somehow, because they even pool their pocket money together to get Hanai a good luck charm, which has Mizutani laughing himself sick until Hanai starts snapping at him.

"Everyone is making fun of him," he mumbles, "why am I the one who gets yelled at?"

"Life is unfair," Izumi tells him in a wise tone, patting him twice on the back. "But maybe if you left it alone you wouldn't get yelled at so much. Just a thought."

Maybe, but it's still not fair. "You're supposed to be on my side!"

"I am?"

Mizutani pouts.

"Fine, fine. Hanai is mean, you don't deserve it, he's probably going to draw ARC this time, and he'll have no one to blame but himself." That's more like it. "Moving on, I'm supposed to ask you. Do you want to come over the day before the draw? My mom's driving me there, and it's closer than your place, so..."

He makes it seem so easy, the asking, even though Mizutani has kind of given up on finding the right opportunity to do it himself. But that's good, right? It's been a while since he was there last, and he's feeling the tension too, in more ways than one.

"Sure," he says, and Izumi nods, apparently satisfied, before he picks up his bag and heads to his first morning class with Tajima and Mihashi.

The draw is only three days away.

It feels like years. Classes, practice, more classes, more practice, studying, even more practice like that's actually possible, but unlike the previous weeks it all seems to advance at a snail's pace, to the point that Mizutani starts going to bed an hour earlier just so that morning will come sooner.

He should have learned, back when he was laying in bed excitedly waiting for Santa, that that technique doesn't work at all. Especially the night before, when he just lays in bed staring at the ceiling for what seem like hours, not anxious this time around but still unable to fall asleep.

It's been too long.

Two weeks, actually, since the last time he got to stay over. But still way too long.

* * *

The next day is hot, moist, heavy. It would be irritating even without the pressure of the coming draw; with it, it sets everyone on edge. It doesn't show so much on Abe, but it _is_ weird for Tajima to be snapping at people for no apparent reason. Even Momokan, though she doesn't change the day's training plan and insists that it builds character, is sweating in her track suit and running low on patience.

And then, _obviously_ , the chemistry teacher wants to talk to Mizutani after class. Something about not being attentive enough (and again, unfair, the other three weren't faring any better today) that somehow ends up taking ten minutes, so he kind of runs to class 2-9 after that.

He finds Tajima and Hamada staring out the window, with Mihashi hovering behind them like a twitchy ghost.

"What's going on?"

"Izumi is getting confessed to," Tajima says gleefully, never taking his eyes of whatever scene is happening downstairs. "I think she's from the archery club."

"He's grown up so much," Hamada adds, fake-wiping a tear.

Mizutani stands there, torn between the desire to see what's going on and the urge to run away.

He's almost, almost made a decision when Tajima pulls back from the window. "Ah, it's over. I wonder how it went."

"You think he said yes?" Hamada asks, eyes shining with amusement. "I mean, it looked like--"

Mizutani heads back to his own classroom, where he forces himself to eat a lunch that's gone soggy and weird in the heat, then buries his face between his arms.

"Are you all right?"

"No," he says, and waves Shinooka away in order to best wallow in his misery.

At least the teachers leave him alone for the afternoon, but he still gets to the afternoon's practice with a stone in his stomach. Strangely though, nobody is talking about it, which is kind of surprising considering the noise everyone made when it got out that Oki had been spotted alone with a girl behind the gym last year.

Not one word, but Izumi is distracted throughout practice, glancing at the sky regularly instead of keeping proper track of the ball.

Not one word about it, still, when they get to his place later in the evening, and get shuffled into dinner.

It lasts forever. As long as the past four days have, except more, and the AC's only turned on low, it's too hot and uncomfortable and he keeps glancing at Izumi, who's still obviously somewhere else in his head. It's a relief when they're finally allowed to leave the table, without even having to participate in the cleanup for reasons Mizutani can only guess at.

Izumi immediately claims first bath and bids his family goodnight before clearing off. His mom shakes her head at her son's rudeness, then corners Mizutani into a seemingly endless chat until they hear a distant call that the bathroom is free. The cool water is a pleasant respite, but by the time he's dried off the oppressive heat is already back all around him.

When he opens the door to the bedroom, the lights are already off and Izumi himself is kneeling on the bed, looking out the open window. The wind's picked up since the afternoon, but there's not a single drop of rain and it's still too hot, here in the room, outside, everywhere.

"Long day, huh?"

"No more than usual," Izumi says, extending a hand outside. "The storm should break soon."

"No, I mean." Mizutani swallows and closes the door behind him. "Eventful," he casts, and licks his lips nervously. Now it all comes to a head, even though he's still not sure he wants to know.

"Not really." Izumi sounds distracted, still. He closes the window. "Did you lock the door?"

So that's that. He got confessed to today, by a girl who's poised and beautiful and even has a passing interest in baseball. He's been distracted ever since but he's still not talking about it, even when prompted. So what does that mean, except that one way or another Mizutani is getting shut out?

He goes back to the door slowly, hesitates before turning the lock, because he didn't do it earlier and that bothers him almost as much as Izumi saying nothing. But he does, and turns around to find his friend on the futon, propped up on an elbow, looking at him as though this is an evening like any other.

Only it's not. It's the last night before summer, before practice takes over completely and there's no time left for this, whatever this is. It's the last time they can do this, at least for a good long while.

Mizutani isn't reacting.

He hates his body sometimes, for being to tall and gangly and not having the proper eyesight to excel at baseball no matter how hard he tries, and now on top of everything else there's this: he's been looking forward to this evening for days, even lost sleep over it. They're kissing and kind of grinding against each other already, just like always and it's _not working_ , there's a switch somewhere that Mizutani didn't even know existed and that hasn't been flipped.

"Huh," Izumi says after a while, retreating.

"It's, er..." Mizutani falters. It's what? He wants this. He always wants this, it seems, whether he's on the guest futon in Izumi's bedroom or laying awake in his own bed or dozing off in class or playing catch on the field, and there's not a single explanation for why his body isn't responding when usually all it takes is a good long _thought_.

"I'm just really tired, I guess." It sounds like an apology. Which there's really no reason for, considering this means he's the one who's not going to get off now, not Izumi.

"Oh. Okay. You should have said." Izumi rolls away, suddenly not touching him at all anymore and Mizutani feels cold in all the spots where they were pressed against each other five seconds ago. "Sleep, then. Long day tomorrow."

He's almost gone already. "Wait," Mizutani says, almost desperately. "I can still..." He has to close his mouth then, swallow the words away because what wants to come out is _I still want to touch you_ and that's just too embarrassing at this point.

"Don't worry about it." Mizutani can even see the shrug as Izumi climbs onto his bed. "Good night."

"Night," he answers, automatically, and finds his own voice strange, strangled a little.

Which is not all that bad, in comparison to the tears that are gathering in his eyes. He blinks, surprised, and they seem to fall in torrents down his cheeks. He rolls to his side, then, in what is probably a pointless attempt not to let Izumi see. Pointless, because Izumi's back is to him already, turned away as soon as hand jobs were off the menu. As soon as it became too much effort. That, or Izumi's got a girlfriend now and didn't want to seem rude by canceling his invitation at the last moment.

This line of thought isn't exactly helping with the leaking problem.

Mizutani shakes his head, raises a hand discreetly to wipe the stupid tears off, and does his best not to sniffle because that would be a dead giveaway. And then, when finally he's calmed down a little and the tears have dried out and he can almost breathe normally, he closes his eyes and waits for sleep to come.

It doesn't, not until the storm finally breaks outside; despite having his back to the window and his eyes closed Mizutani can see the flash of lightning.

The thunderbolt rolls a couple of seconds later. Close, then, not that it matters much except for the part where he's even not even remotely sleepy anymore. Sighing, he rolls over to glance at Izumi's alarm clock, and groans.

"Not sleeping yet?"

Shit. "Ah, yeah. I can't sleep for some reason." Another roll of thunder covers the end of the sentence, not that it was all that interesting anyway.

"Come up here?" Izumi suggests when the noise has passed, and it's kind of pathetic how Mizutani scrambles to do as he's told. Izumi moves back to give him space, pulling the pillow in a thick bundle under his head. Mizutani lies down as close to the edge as possible.

"So tired you can't sleep, huh? I hate it when that happens."

"Something like that. What about you?" He asks because it's safe -- safer at least than other topics such as how he couldn't get it up earlier, or how he wants to roll onto Izumi and pin him against the mattress, but is paralyzed by the existence of that girl who inserted herself into his life so easily. With, he realizes now, Shinooka's help.

He'd never thought he could resent her for anything, before this.

"Stuff on my mind," Izumi evades.

For the next thing that comes out of his mouth, Mizutani has absolutely no excuse. "Your girlfriend?"

They're not even touching but he can feel Izumi freeze. "Why would you say that?"

What a good question that is. For a moment he considers saying Tajima told him, but that kind of thing always comes back to bite him in the ass. "I came to your classroom earlier. The others were watching," he admits. And, stupidly, "She's hot."

"Yeah." There's a frown in his voice, though, and Mizutani's breath catches. "She's also not my girlfriend."

"You turned her down? Why?" He should just stuff a sock in his mouth or something. Choke himself to death, that would be less embarrassing than how pathetically relieved he sounded just now.

"I don't need to tell you that," Izumi snaps, and Mizutani feels something else snap, like maybe he hasn't cried all the stupid tears in his stupid body after all.

"Fine." He keeps it to one word, much safer, and makes to roll out of bed and back down to the futon.

Only then there's a hand on his back, pressed flat between his shoulderblades and Izumi must be some kind of alien because where he's touching Mizutani can't move, which means he can't breathe at all.

"What?" he manages to demand with the last of his air. The hand pulls away as another streak of lightning hits, immediately followed by thunder. It's so close now, right here, might even hit the house and make them all fry to death and wouldn't it be nice to be able to get out of this?

"I meant, don't you know already?" It's so quiet that for a moment Mizutani isn't sure he's really heard it.

"No," he says, staring into the darkness. "I don't."

"You didn't wonder why I lied?"

That... that's kind of out of nowhere, as questions go. "Huh?"

There's no answer but a shuffling noise behind him, enough to make him curious, to make him look. When he does Izumi is sitting up against the window, arms drawn around his knees, blanket bunched at his feet. "After the first game you played in spring. My mom was talking about it at dinner. Confessions."

Oh, right. Maybe if Mizutani hadn't been so concerned with his own confession-that-wasn't, he would have paid more attention to it, too. "You said..." _Come on, remember, it's not that far back, it should have been important even then._ "You said you didn't have the time, right?" Which is true even now, considering their schedules. "How is that a lie?"

Izumi takes a long, deep breath. "Because there's all the time I spend with you."

Something clenches inside Mizutani at that, dense and heavy, making him feel like throwing up. "It's not that much time," he says, but it feels brittle.

Izumi glances at him for half a second. "Think about it. Any day this week or last."

"Practice doesn't count," Mizutani protests, because that's hardly free time.

"No, it doesn't. Think about it."

So he does, picks last Tuesday at random, a day like any other really. He woke up in his own bed, got ready, got to practice... A little bit early, if he recalls, and Izumi was there too so they spent a few minutes talking together before Hanai got there. Then practice, which doesn't count, then the usual homework marathon before class started, in which he and Izumi practically swapped their English and math homework, as has become the norm when they're too pressed for time to do it properly.

Then Izumi came to pick him up for lunch, which they had... was it outside, or the cafeteria? Lunches kind of blend together these days, but it was the full break and then afternoon classes and practice, then the whole team rode out to the convenience store and somehow he spent the entire time there in an invested conversation about idols with Izumi, Suyama and Sakaeguchi (who was a lot more knowledgeable than the other two, not that it was much of a surprise). Then they all disbanded, and on the way back he got a perfect view of the full moon with a dog-shaped cloud passing in front of it, and he snapped a picture of it to send it over to--

"Oh," he whispers as a flash lights up the room. It's not much, he said, and it feels true even now, but it's still every waking hour.

"Yeah." Izumi takes a breath. "So it's not that there isn't time. It might even be enough."

 _And you'd be with her all the time._ Mizutani pushes himself up, sits opposite Izumi with his legs crossed.

"But I don't want it."

"You don't?" And doesn't Mizutani sound like a complete moron, asking the dumbest questions ever. It's kind of miraculous that Izumi doesn't snap _I just said so_ right back.

"The way things are right now is fine. I'm not interested in making changes. Not big ones."

It sounds so simple, something he could tell anyone really, not worth keeping secret by any standards, except...

Except from Mizutani, because what that means, when it comes to the two of them, what that means... Mizutani blinks, fidgets a little. Doesn't say a word, too caught up in how hard his heart is beating to even make an attempt at a real sentence.

"So that's how it is. Now will you please stop asking?" It's so rare to hear Izumi pleading that for a moment Mizutani is at a loss. It takes him a few tries and the sting of nails digging in his palm to catch his breath, to get a word out.

"I," he says, which is a good start but a little light on content. "I won't ask. And I think... No, I know. I don't have time for a girlfriend, either."

Silence falls again, nothing to match against his heartbeat because the rain battering against the window doesn't count, and for a moment he thinks, maybe, Izumi doesn't believe him and then what is he going to do?

"Neither of us is getting a girlfriend any time soon, then," Izumi says, every word cautious and the lilt of a question at the end. But he looks up, finally meets Mizutani's eyes and he's smiling, only a little at the edges but smiling and in that moment Mizutani wants all of him.

"I'm good with that." He unfolds himself to climb over Izumi, straddle his thighs, trapping him against the wall. He swallows. "Can I..." only he doesn't know what or why he's asking.

Which Izumi seems to agree with, soft laugh and still, still smiling as he wraps his arms around Mizutani's neck. "You're asking something like that only now?"

"Hey, you kissed me first," Mizutani protests, and finds that's not even enough to rile Izumi up.

"You asked."

 _And I was thinking about someone else the entire time_ , Mizutani thinks but doesn't say, because that was never a secret and anyway he kind of wishes it wasn't true, now.

"I didn't really," he tries to taunt back anyway. Technically, it's the truth. He didn't, as such, ask. More like... implied. Suggested.

Izumi raises an eyebrow. "Right. Anyway, you were kind of crap at it." Before Mizutani has the time to get offended though, the hold around his neck gets a little tighter. "Show me what you've learned?"

"Who's asking now," Mizutani grumbles but he's still smiling and so is Izumi, when he finally (finally finally, how long has he been waiting for this?) leans in to brush their lips together, soft like he's always known a first kiss should be.

Izumi sighs into it, parting his lips, and from amazing it jumps to perfect.

Perfect but excruciatingly slow, because Mizutani remembers the friendly advice with painful clarity, _don't do that it's gross_ , and so now that he's been given the reins he takes his time, lets himself be paced by the thunderbolts, and it feels like long minutes before tongues finally come into play, cautiously at first, tracing lips, barely daring to push further before retreating.

Which is when Izumi groans so he pulls back -- not far.

"Yeah, that's better," Izumi sighs and Mizutani doesn't like to brag (okay, yes, he does) but he sounds a little dazed. "Are you still tired?"

And of course Mizutani's body hates him right back, it's a wonder he was ever blind to it, because he opens his mouth to say no and what comes out is the hugest yawn ever recorded. It's not all that bad, thankfully, because it makes Izumi chuckle like this is the best joke ever.

"Not so much anymore," Mizutani says with the slightest of pouts.

"Good then." Maybe Izumi sounds just a little relieved as he tugs Mizutani closer again.

When they kiss this time it's with no regard for technique or skill. Not that the rules seem to matter tonight, the way Izumi's kissing back all tongue and teeth and no restraint.

But maybe _some_ restraint after all, maybe a little because Izumi's fingers are clutching hard in Mizutani's back, so tight it almost hurts, like he's holding on for dear life.

Mizutani tries to break the kiss and he can see Izumi taking a deep steadying breath before he follows, straightens up, catches Mizutani again as his hands slide under the t-shirt, roam over his back, his chest, his stomach, pushing the fabric so far up it seems silly to keep it on. He pulls back, again just far enough to pass the t-shirt over his head.

He hasn't even dropped it to the side that Izumi is back against him, one hand sliding down from his shoulder ( _onto his heart_ ) and the other grabbing his hip as he licks along Mizutani's collarbone. It only lasts a second, the time for a soft gasp, and then Izumi is forcing himself away, whispering apologies and Mizutani's attempt at telling him to stay gets covered by a roll of thunder so he wraps his hand at the back of Izumi's head and pulls him back in, groaning low in the back of his throat when he feels teeth nipping at his skin and nails raking down his back.

Restraint. That's how it feels, like Izumi is trying so hard to hold back, and the very idea makes Mizutani's head swim.

Izumi's hands come to rest on the small of his back, fingertips just under the waistband of his boxers, as he mouths a path up Mizutani's throat.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, barely audible against the rain.

"Isn't that--" He whimpers, not manly or impressive but impossible to resist. "Isn't that what people say before pushing someone off a cliff?"

"Yes," Izumi answers, voice thick, fingers roaming just at the edge. It sounds more like a promise than anything to be scared of.

Mizutani licks his lips, closes his eyes. "I trust you."

He feels the grin against his throat.

 _Vampire_ , a stray thought claims before floating away when Izumi's hands slide down, as though that permission was all he was ever waiting for. Mizutani finds himself thinking that it's a little uncomfortable, but then it's been too hot the whole day, so maybe all he needs to do at this point is just take the boxers off. Or, since that involves moving away, at least push them down a little, until they're scrunched up around his thighs and showing off that he is, indeed, not tired at all anymore.

Izumi pushes him away. Mizutani has one second to think _shit it was all a prank_ before he's being kissed again, hard, invasive, and he remembers the music, the beat, Izumi going to his knees in front of him and it doesn't even matter now what he said that time, because either way he's been wanting this. Wanting _him_ , to the point that he still has to keep a check on himself even now, as he tries to maneuver Mizutani into a different position.

"Just tell me," Mizutani whispers against his lips, not even sure himself of what he's saying.

The instruction comes terse, immediate. "Lie down."

So he does, and then follows the further instruction so his face is buried in the pillow, his hips in the air, boxers removed completely, legs spread even wider than Izumi asked for. He should feel embarrassed, exposed, anxious, and he does, all these things, but it's nothing compared to the excitement, the anticipation. It's not really a surprise when Izumi cups his buttocks and tugs them slightly apart, but there's still a thrill there, even though he knows how this goes, how it usually hurts the first time.

But the fingers that slide along the crack are soft, butterfly-light, barely brush against his asshole before pulling, back, and then. And then.

Then he has to whimper, couldn't help it if his life depending on it because Izumi is licking him, down there, careful and gentle but _there_ and Mizutani can feel everything, tongue jaw breath hands, keeping him open for the exploration.

His body moves without his consent, muscles jerking from the sensation as Izumi licks around his hole, and the only thing that's of any concern now is whether he can come just from this. Only that’s not really something he wants to find out right now, not when he’s hard enough that it hurts, so he adjusts his position, leaning on a single elbow now.

His hand, too, moves on its own: reaching back to nudge Izumi’s free. He grips his own ass tight, keeps himself spread out even as Izumi reaches between his legs, wraps his hand around Mizutani's cock. The angle is really bad and that doesn't matter, not one bit, because Mizutani is already moaning, drooling into the pillow, and all it would take is for that finger flickering against the hole to--

Go in just a little deeper.

He falls on the bed, physically exhausted, shaking, breathing as though he's just run a marathon. A second later Izumi is crashing on top of him and he bucks back against it with the last of his strength, against the hardness sliding between his buttocks. He almost makes a crack about how that's not how it's supposed to be done but hey, innovation is good, really good, so Mizutani just keeps going until Izumi comes, with a quiet gasp, over the small of his back.

He's at the point of considering the pros and cons of falling asleep like this, with a human blanket and only a few hours to go before he has to get up, when Izumi pulls back to fumble for something under the bed.

The faithful tissues, of course, and a water aerosol that Mizutani blinks at but finds both useful and refreshing when he feels the spray over his skin. Then, when the clean-up is mostly done and he's thrown the (many) tissues away, Izumi comes back with a small pack of peppermint candy and the pillow from the futon.

It's not all that easy to find a comfortable position on the narrow bed, but eventually they manage and Mizutani kind of never wants to get out of it again.

"The storm's leaving," he mumbles after a while, lazily trailing his hands over Izumi's skin. It's soft under his fingers, supple, and there's something utterly satisfying about tracing the edges: ribs, collarbone, Adam’s apple. Izumi lets him do as he pleases for a while, until one of Mizutani's fingers bump against a nipple.

"Are you trying to get me going again?" he asks almost accusingly. Mizutani wasn't, really, but he kind of likes the sound of it.

"What, are you saying you can only do it once a day? What would Tajima say?"

Izumi growls; a moment later, Mizutani finds himself pinned to the bed and kissed hard.

He’s still blinking dazedly that Izumi's already retreated back to his previous position. "He'd say 'I'm jealous, I wish I had someone to get me off even once’."

"Come on, it's not like he's never..."

"Not once in his life. He told me. And he better never know that I told you about this."

Mizutani wriggles to adjust to the weight of Izumi's head on his shoulder. "Or else?"

"Or else..." Now it's Izumi tracing patterns on him, slow and lazy. It makes him shiver, which is nice. It's still way too warm in here. "Or else, I'll have to reconsider whether I really want to suck you off again after all."

No sound comes out of Mizutani's gaping mouth. He swallows. "Now _you're_ trying to get me going again."

"Maybe." Izumi's hand is still on him, running over his hip.

"I thought you hated it," Mizutani admits quietly after a moment.

"Hmm? Why?" Now down his thigh and yeah, it's a little bit too soon to start again but he's definitely getting there.

Mizutani takes a deep breath, lets himself sink further into the bed. "Because, after, we were talking and I thought we were going to kiss but you kind of… ran out." And that did not sound like a whiny six year old girl. Surely.

"I don't..." He trails off. "Oh, that! No, that was..." he lets out a short laugh. "That was because of the bed."

Okay, so, that makes no sense whatsoever, which Mizutani points out with a confused sound.

"Remember the day we started training together?"

 _The second time we made out_ , Mizutani thinks, and says yes.

"After you went home, I tried to do some homework, and I kept getting distracted. It was something like a week before I could look at my bed and not think about getting a hand job. So I decided that if anything happened again, it shouldn't be on my bed or I was never going to do my homework again. At least the futon gets folded away."

"But you were okay with it this time, right?" Mizutani prods. As much as he likes the thought of Izumi getting distracted by thoughts of him, it does them no good if he’s going to regret it.

Izumi says nothing for a long time. Mizutani can feel him breathe, the ebb and flow of the air against his arm.

"Yeah. I'm fine with it now." A pause, as Mizutani feels something flutter happily in his stomach, then "how could you still think I hated it after I just... ?" He stops there, which makes Mizutani just a little bit satisfied to find out that even Izumi can get embarrassed talking about stuff like that, even if he's fine with doing it.

"That was..." He starts, and stops as well because the only word that comes forth is ‘incredible’, which doesn't always mean ‘good’, so he needs to find a better one.

"Too far, huh?" Izumi asks softly.

"No, I..." Mizutani stops himself, wide-eyed. Even now, it doesn't feel like something he should say. It seems too early, or maybe just a little too late.

"You what?"

"Nothing."

Izumi's fingers slide along his ribs, feather-light, and Mizutani has to bite his lip to stop himself from shrieking.

"You what?"

"It's embarrassing!" he protests.

"You _know_ now I won't leave you alone until you tell me."

It doesn't sound so bad, as threats go. Mizutani sighs, well aware of the cocked weapon still hovering by his waist.

"I wanted you to go further," he admits, feeling a rush of heat to his face.

"You... oh. Wow." Izumi's hand finds his hip, tightens a little. Mizutani can still feel him breathing, but it's deeper now, slower. "Well. For the record, I'm down with that. Whenever you want."

"Good," Mizutani says, even though it's kind of scary now, the idea of it; but it's Izumi so it should be fine, and the very notion of having some sort of plan, even if it’s only the idea of _next time_ , makes him stupidly happy anyway.

* * *

Getting up in the morning is hard, though not so much as telling Izumi's mom that he slept very well thank you without blushing like crazy. In comparison, making eye contact with Izumi is surprisingly easy, possibly because Izumi keeps muttering about sleep-kicking and making annoyed faces at him.

They only get to their destination a few minutes before the meeting time, which more or less ensures that they're going to be late, which means Hanai is going to yell at him some more.

Mizutani doesn't care one bit.

They're wading through the unmoving crowd when he sees Izumi make a face, hears him groan...

And gets a really bad feeling when he recognizes Higashikuni Masaru walking toward them. "Hey, Kousuke! And, er..." he blinks questioningly at Mizutani.

"You know his name, jackass," Izumi snaps.

Higashikuni looks at him. There's a silent exchange that Mizutani doesn't get; at the end of it the guy smirks, and drops a heavy arm across Mizutani's shoulder. "I do, too," he says, bending their heads together. "He talks about you all the time. Mizukichi this, Mizukichi that, nothing can shut him up."

"That's not--" Mizutani tries, but gets overrun.

"Reminds me of that time in seventh grade, when he had a crush on this super hot history teacher who..."

"Right, that's enough," Izumi cuts in, forcibly separating them just as Mizutani thinks he's going to get to hear the kind of childhood story that even Hamada doesn't know about. He looks at Mizutani. "We're meeting with the others in three minutes," then at Higashikuni: "And I'm sure you have a team waiting for you somewhere. Far away," he adds meaningfully.

"But..."

"And you are _not_ allowed to talk to him. Ever,” stressing the last word as he steps between the two of them.

Higashikuni pouts, which is a weird look on him, but the moment Izumi turns around he perks up, and gesticulates something Mizutani understands to mean 'he's got my number in his phone, call me'.

Which is more than a little confusing, from someone who can't even remember his name.

"We're going," Izumi insist.

"You're never any fun anymore," Higashikuni complains. "See you later, Mizukichi. Take good care of my boy, he's fragile." In two steps he's disappeared into the crowd, leaving Mizutani confused.

And kind of worried, but mostly confused.

"What just happened?" he asks, following Izumi to the meeting spot.

"You met my insane childhood friend, who needs to be locked up and have the key thrown away in a volcano. Sorry about that."

That's pretty much the conclusion Mizutani's reached, but it's not the part he's concerned about.

"Er, right now, he said..."

Izumi stops walking, which changes the flow of people around them and makes a few of them curse. He looks at Mizutani, the corner of his lips twitching the slightest bit. "Like I said: he knows who you are."

He starts moving forward again, leaving Mizutani to blink after him, feeling a rush of warmth spread through his body.

Summer begins.


End file.
